


Honey Whiskey

by coffeeandcas



Series: A Million Dreams [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Bottom Dean, Castiel and Jimmy Novak are Twins, Dean is a Tease, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Bond, Mutual Pining, No Underage Sex, Omega Dean, Omega Dean Winchester, Pining, Protective Castiel, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Student Dean Winchester, Supportive John Winchester, Teacher Castiel, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top Castiel, Topping from the Bottom, Underage Drinking, teenage dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-03-23 12:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13787418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandcas/pseuds/coffeeandcas
Summary: Dean Winchester has been nursing a crush on his gorgeous alpha English Lit. teacher ever since he first saw him. To him, their attraction to each other seems so strong that they can't avoid it forever. The only problem is Castiel Novak either hasn't noticed or doesn't care.So he sets about doing whatever he can to draw Castiel’s attention to himself, and is sure he's scored a win when the gorgeous alpha offers him private tutoring after hours…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay sooo this is my first ABO fic _ever_ and I'm all kinds of nervous about posting it! Let me know what you think, I always love hearing from you all ♥
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta [Tricia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16) for all her hard work and for boosting my confidence. You're the very best.
> 
> Now, onto the fic...

Castiel Novak is the type of guy who can silence an entire room with just one glance. With his brooding frown and piercing blue eyes, he's captivating and handsome. He seems wholly unaware of that fact as he moves through the throngs of students and other teachers with an almost distracted air, looking for all the world like he's got something of import on his mind. Or perhaps he's just weighed down under all the books he constantly seems to be carrying. He's Dean’s obsession, his infatuation, the reason he can't sleep or eat or breathe without thinking of him... and the man barely seems to know Dean exists beyond the four walls of his classroom.

Castiel had arrived at the school in early January after the English Literature teacher slipped on a patch of ice and broke her leg. He was to cover for her during her recovery and then to stay on if another suitable post arose. His twin brother Jimmy was already well-established as the Classics and Religious Studies teacher, so it seemed only natural for Castiel to follow him. He had seemed like easy pickings to the students at the start of his first day, stumbling out of his battered Lincoln Continental with his tie on backwards and hair a mess as though he only just woke up. Dean, over by the bleachers, had zoned in on him immediately and knew he was going to have a little fun giving the new teacher a rough ride on his first day. At that moment, Castiel had only been a tiny figure in the distance getting out of a crappy car. Nothing more than that. Dean couldn't even really see his face.

Fresh blood. Easy pickings. Excellent fun for someone like Dean Winchester, the class slacker, known for his big mouth and bad attitude.

But Castiel immediately proved him wrong.

The first five minutes of Dean’s English Lit. class passed and no teacher arrived. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen, and the students were bored and restless. Paper airplanes were thrown, two jocks got into a scuffle, and just as Dean got up to leave the door opened in his face and he found himself staring into intense blue eyes and a grim smile, and all of the false bravado he normally carried with him deflated in an instant. As they stood and stared at each other, Castiel looking at ease while Dean’s heart began to pound, the class slowly fell silent around them. It was as though the crackling tension that had instantly exploded between them could be felt by everyone. Silence stretched on for a beat, then another, until someone behind him coughed pointedly.

“You must be Dean Winchester.”

Castiel’s voice was low and rough and sent a small shockwave of desire down Dean’s spine. He nodded mutely, robbed of his words for the first time in living memory. He tried to subtly scent the air around him, trying to pick up the man’s scent, but he was too far away. There was no real need anyway. He knew instinctively that he was staring into the face of an alpha. His throat went dry, his heart raced, and it took a full minute for him realise that he was standing in Castiel’s way. The English teacher was watching him impassively, eyes flicking over his face before they moved behind him to gaze at the silent, observing students, and Dean felt his face burn.

“Please take a seat, Dean. The class is only just beginning.”

It was a shock to everyone, including Dean himself, when he did as he was asked. Dean Winchester _never_ does as he's asked, at least not quietly. He felt a ball of paper hit the back of head and lowered his eyes, swallowing hard. _What the hell?_ He should have told this newbie teacher where to go, mocked him for being late and pushed past him to head out for a self-inflicted free period. Instead he had acquiesced immediately and without question, almost like a damn…

Almost like an omega faced with an alpha. And not just any alpha: _their_ alpha. Dean groaned silently and buried his face in his hands. He isn't like that. He isn't ruled by his body. He took a breath and looked up, determined to do something to reclaim his bravado, but as soon as Castiel began speaking about their current project, _Leaves of Grass_ , he was rendered mute again because _holy shit_ the guy is incredible. And, somehow, he's got most of the class captivated despite their prior moaning about the ‘unspeakably dull’ book of poetry. (Dean likes it, privately, but never allows himself to say so.) And so he sat and listened along with the rest of the class, trying not to wonder what the hell was wrong with him and why he couldn't calm his racing heart until the bell chimed and he could escape the classroom.

In the boys’ bathroom he splashed water on his face and braced himself on the sink, staring at his own reflection.

_What the hell is wrong with you, man?_

He knew, of course. He was reacting to the proximity of an alpha he liked, and it was confusing as all hell. It didn't feel like he thought it would. He's heard the stories, of course, of omegas becoming incomprehensible in the presence of alphas they were attracted to, of their bodies responding urgently - sexually - but this didn't feel like that. He felt need, sure, but a different kind of need. He needed to be close to Castiel, to look into his eyes, to touch him, to be touched, to be _noticed_. And frankly, he would have preferred the mindless arousal to the confusion and panic now churning in his stomach. Had Castiel felt the same? Was he, right now, in a staff bathroom with the same tremors and harsh breathing? Dean didn't know, but he damn well hoped so because this feeling was scaring the hell out of him and he didn't want to suffer through it alone.

He's made his peace with his secondary gender. He had to. When he presented as an omega just after his sixteenth birthday, suffering through a heat that almost killed him, John Winchester had sat him down over a glass of Jack and spoken to him frankly and bluntly about what that meant for him. The motel room had smelled of old cigars and cologne, and was too stuffy and claustrophobic for a new omega just coming out of his first heat. Dean had trembled the entire time, on the verge of tears of shame for feeling like he let his father down, and that feeling was compounded by John not meeting his eyes and finding the table and his glass more interesting than his son. When John had mentioned suppressants and scent blockers, to keep him safe from the predatory alphas that frequented the motels they stayed at, Dean hadn't been able to hold in a choked sob. John had glanced up, startled, and had stood up after seeing the tears of shame glittering on his son’s face. When Dean flinched back, afraid he was going to be hit or shaken for his pitifulness, something that looked a lot like pain had crossed his father’s face.

“Dean,” John wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulder and hauled him close, not letting go even when Dean tensed and gripped his father’s leather jacket tightly, unfamiliar with the embrace. “It's alright, son. It's gonna be just fine.”

Sam had accepted it all with curious bewilderment then had gone on to talk about his school physics project as though Dean’s secondary gender didn't matter to him at all. Which was, in fact, the truth. Sam would be a beta, Dean thought as he lay awake at night and watched his baby brother sleep. He was sure of that fact. He had never been sure of himself, always known he wouldn't present as an alpha, but an omega… He shook his head in the darkness. It had never even crossed his mind.

And since then he's never met an alpha he felt anything but disgust for. Being young and pretty, with long eyelashes and full lips, he attracted his fair share of attention. Attention that was usually rebuffed instantly by a growl from John Winchester and the occasional parking lot scuffle. John protected his own, no matter what, and Dean had never felt any need to be afraid with his father around. All the alphas he's met have been repulsive men, too old for him and too dominant, or predatory women with sultry smiles and too-tight handshakes, and as the months passed he found himself wondering if he would ever be attracted to anyone, male or female. He took suppressants, never suffered through another heat, and wore scent blockers to hide himself at school. It was easier that way, for his friends to assume he was an alpha or a beta and for him just to shrug when they asked. Lying by omission wasn't exactly lying, right?

Then Castiel happened, and Dean’s life changed with a bang.

He tosses and turns every night in his uncomfortable motel bed, thinking back over his lessons with his handsome new teacher. Picturing the way Castiel holds his pen, the expressive way his eyes light up when he talks about something he loves (which is his entire subject), the way he frowns when marking papers, the clumsy, awkward way he holds himself when he's got his hands full of books. Dean had helped him out one day, leaping forward to catch a copy of _Dante’s Inferno_ before it hit the ground as Castiel attempted to juggle his books, satchel, and coffee unsuccessfully. When he had handed the book back, he had hoped for something. _Anything._ A spark of recognition, acknowledgement, _something_ in Castiel’s eyes to reflect that he feels the same way as Dean does. But instead he got a distracted, “Thank you, Dean,” and Castiel had walked away.

On January 24th, Castiel walked past Dean in the corridor and said, “Happy birthday, Dean,” before carrying on like it was nothing. Dean gaped, staring after him, watching his trench coat flap around his ankles as he walked, as his friends fell about laughing.

“Happy birthday, _Deeeeean_!”

“Happy birthday, sugar!”

“Aww, it's Dean’s 18th birthday and his favorite teacher remembered! Best gift ever, right?” Charlie flicked her red hair and made kissy faces in the direction of Castiel’s retreating back.

“Shut up.” Dean shoved Ash hard against the lockers which only made the mullet-haired teen laugh harder.

“Man,” Ash straightened up, wiping tears from his eyes. “Dude is _weird.”_

 _“_ Yeah,” Dean agreed distractedly, watching the classroom door where Castiel had disappeared into it. “Weird.”

But that moment remains one of the best of his short life so far, and he thinks about it constantly when he's supposed to be sleeping. Or eating. Or studying, or working out, or helping Sammy. He can't help it he's completely, utterly, ass-over-tit in teenage love with his Lit. teacher. And he's sure it's only fifty percent to do with his hormones. Maybe sixty. The alpha thing definitely helps. But Castiel is just so… _Perfect_ , his mind supplies, shying away from the word it had originally chosen. Dean refuses to let himself even consider _that_ particular word; he's locked it far away in an untouchable box - at least for now. At least until the day, the sublime day, that he can get Castiel to notice him properly. As more than just a dumb student, the idiot slacker who just hangs with his friends and causes trouble because he can. He spends his days daydreaming, watching Castiel teach and wondering what his hands would feel like cupping his jaw, stroking his face... what his mouth would feel like to kiss. And his nights are spent either staring at the ceiling and reliving every precious second they've spent in the same room or dreaming wildly of being locked in the arms of the handsome alpha. And he still hasn't got close enough to Castiel to pick up his scent - he probably wears blockers like the rest of the staff, but if Dean could just get a little nearer, maybe he could get the tiniest hint. He knows Castiel will smell incredible no matter what.

Weeks pass in a blurry haze, with his friends laughing at him and poking fun, and his grades starting to slide even further. And Castiel still hasn't noticed him.

But now, here they are - rr rather, here _Dean_ is - slumped across his kitchen table and pushing his breakfast around his plate, bleary-eyed from yet another sleepless night spent thinking about Castiel. He's trying to scribble some homework down with one hand while shovelling oatmeal into his mouth with the other and almost jumps out of his skin when Sam pounces on him from behind then falls about laughing.

“Gotcha!”

“Get lost, Sammy, I gotta finish this.” Dean gives his brother a baleful look and Sam just laughs harder as he sits down to his own oatmeal and gives it a sour look. “No Lucky Charms today, kid. Sorry.”

“I'm not a kid.” Sam eats at the speed of a starving rhino and Dean gawps at him in surprise. “What? I want to get to school early, the debate society is meeting before homeroom.” Then, curiously, “Why haven't you finished your homework already?”

“Meant to. Forgot.” Dean is non-committal at best in the mornings, and especially so when it comes to discussing the reason _why_ he forgot to do his Physics homework. He was thinking about Castiel, yet again, and time had just… gone somewhere.

Sam eyes him with a calculating stare that belies his young face. “He still hasn't noticed you, huh?”

“What?” A mouthful of oatmeal goes down the wrong way and Dean descends into a coughing fit. When he re-emerges, watery-eyed and blinking, Sam is still watching him with interest. “Dunno who you're talking about.”

“You do. Mr Novak. I've heard you talking in your sleep, Dean.” Sam manages to look both sympathetic and condescending in the same moment. Then he makes a face. “And I've heard other things, too. Things I swear I'm gonna need brain bleach for.”

“ _Sam!”_

Another coughing fit begins, one that Dean extends on purpose this time just to prevent this conversation from continuing. It's true that he's had more than one exciting dream about Castiel, and has woken up more times than he can count with his underwear soaked with slick and cum and his cheeks burning hotly. But to think that his younger brother has _overheard…_ Suddenly, a new, more horrifying thought strikes him.

“Does Dad…?”

Sam shrugs and downs his entire glass of cheap, gas-station OJ in one gulp. “If he does, he hasn't said anything. I don't think he cares, Dean. As long as you're safe and happy.”

“Doesn't sound like Dad,” Dean grumbles, ducking his face and wishing his cheeks would stop burning. “He wanted an alpha for a son.”

Something hard hits him on the forehead and he lets out an indignant yelp as Sam’s spoon clatters to the floor. His baby brother is glaring at him with sparks in his eyes.

“This again? You know that's not true, Dean. You gotta move past all this.”

“Whatever.” He stands up, scraping his chair harshly on the cheap lino floor, scooping up both their bowls and dumping them in the sink. “I'm done with the chick-flick garbage. Time for school.”

They walk the two miles to school in almost silence. Sam tries to read a book while walking and Dean yanks his brother out of the way of oncoming cars, lampposts, dog leads and other people more often than he'd like.

“Pay attention, Sammy. Gonna wind up wrapped around a parking meter.”

“It's _Sam_.” The book snaps shut indignantly as they reach the gates and his brother hisses at him fervently. “Please, Dean, stop calling me that. I don't want my friends overhearing.”

“And here I thought you were too smart to worry about what all the other kids think.” Dean ruffles his brother’s hair and barks out a laugh when Sam squawks.

“Like you, you mean?” Sam smoothes down his hair - which is getting pretty long and needs a cut - then smirks as a beige Lincoln Continental grunts it's way into the parking lot. “Oh wait, you only care about what _one_ person thinks, right?”

“Fuck off, Sam.” It comes out as a growl. Dean is one-hundred percent done with this conversation - but he isn't looking at Sam any more. He's looking over the wall and into the parking lot, to where Castiel is climbing out of his car and talking animatedly to his brother as they turn to walk into the school. He doesn't realise he's staring until Sam elbows him in the side. He turns to reprimand him harshly, but Sam just shakes his head and gives him a peculiar, sad sort of smile.

“Make him notice you, Dean. Then if he does, you'll know if he likes you.”

“ _Likes_ me? He's my teacher Sam, it's…” He flails helplessly for a word. “Gross.” It isn't. It _so_ isn't. It's everything Dean has ever wanted and more but he has to at least try and save face, right? Sam sighs, seeing straight through him, and yanks his school bag higher up onto his shoulder.

“You're eighteen, Dean. You're not a child any more. Whatever you wanna do, it's up to you. He's only going to be your teacher for another couple of months.”

“Yeah, well, I'm sure it's immoral or something.” Dean side-eyes Sam. “You shouldn't be encouraging me.”

“Well, I want you to be happy. So.” Sam shrugs and turns away. “See you later, Dean.”

“Yeah, bye Sammy.”

He turns and heads for the steps with _it's Sam_ ringing in his ears and laughs to himself. The kid is too wise for his own good sometimes, he really is. At thirteen, Sam has his head screwed on straight and seems to know more about life than Dean ever did at his age. There are only four and a bit years between them, but sometimes Dean feels like the younger brother being guided by his elder. He frowns. Maybe he put too much on Sam when he should have kept it to himself. Maybe Dad put too much on both of them, leaving them in motels while he goes out hunting deer and rabbits and whatever else he does that means he comes back late at night and exhausted. Maybe -

“Oh!”

Dean walks straight into someone so hard that he almost knocks them both to the ground. Staggering, he's held up only by the warm body in front of him and the hands that shoot up to grip his biceps. There's a flutter of pages and the sound of books hitting the ground - and Dean’s feet - then he's gazing up into piercing blue eyes and for a moment his entire world comes to a standstill.

Castiel.

Dean takes a breath, about to open his mouth and apologise furiously, but instead Castiel’s natural scent fills his senses and he's rendered mute under the onslaught. The world seems to zone out somehow and it's just him and Castiel with the scent of the alpha all around him. _Green tea, honey, old leather-bound books, fine wine..._  He feels suddenly dizzy as he takes in each individual scent and Castiel’s hands grip his arms a little tighter to keep him upright.

“Dean?” The low, husky voice sounds strangely distant and Dean blinks sluggishly to clear his vision. “Dean, are you alright?”

“I…”

“Dean!”

Everything comes back into focus at freight-train speed, as though someone has turned up the volume, and he's hyper-aware of Castiel’s hands steadying him, of his concerned frown, of his perfect blue eyes and… and of Charlie standing all of two feet away.

“I'm… I'm fine,” he manages and Castiel releases him slowly with a nod. “I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going.”

“Don't worry. It was my fault.” Castiel is bent down now, gathering his books, and Dean is trying to swallow around his dry throat, aware that Charlie’s eyes are boring into the back of his head. His teacher stands again, books clutched to his chest, and gives Dean an appraising look. “Are you sure you're alright?”

“Yes,” he manages with a nod, his heart pounding in his ears. That smell. Castiel smells _amazing_ and it's taking all his self-control not to lean in for more. They're still standing close together - already closer than strictly appropriate - and it would be so easy just to move a little closer. He wonders if his own scent is noticeable through the double-layer of blockers he wears, and if it is, what does he smell like to Castiel? Enticing? Sweet?

“Dean.”

Castiel’s voice is firm this time and he blinks owlishly, then realises to his utter mortification, that he _had_ been leaning in and he scuffles back a few steps in frantic dismay. Castiel tilts his head curiously, then after a moment’s pause he moves away, heading for the Languages corridor.

“I'll see you in class, Dean. Don't be late.”

Then he's gone and Dean sags against the lockers, distraught for reasons he can't explain. He covers his eyes with his hands and waits for Charlie’s verdict on what just happened. When it doesn't come, he parts his fingers to peer at her.

“Go on. Say it.”

“Nope! I’m not saying anything!” The bell rings above them, startling them both, and she loops an arm through his to drag him away from the lockers and down the corridor. “But you're lucky nobody nobody else less cool than I am was around to witness that hot mess.”

“I don't know what you're -”

“It's fine that you like him.” She continues, as though he hasn't made a sound, tossing her red hair over her shoulder to display the Star Trek logo on her tee, and steers him towards their classroom. “But try and keep it in your pants, Winchester. At least in school. People talk, you know?”

“I - I know.”

Rattled, hot, and feeling oddly shaken, he follows her to their morning homeroom session where he sits and gazes into empty space, only responding to her when she prods him in the ribs and hisses questions at him. She's the only friend he has who knows he's an omega, so he trusts her not to make fun of him. That isn't what he's thinking so deeply about.

His thoughts are back with Castiel and the moment when their eyes met, when they were pressed so close together and Castiel had caught him in his arms. Because despite the impassive way Castiel had righted them both and brushed him off, he's absolutely certain he saw the alpha’s eyes flash red in between one blink and the next.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is awesome and got this done in record time, so here's chapter two for you. Enjoy!

If Dean didn't share his English Lit. class with Charlie, he thinks his crush would have gone unnoticed for at least a little while longer. Or that's what he told himself, anyway. He's sure that more than a handful of his friends have caught him in the middle of an intense daydreaming session whilst staring at the handsome alpha, but either they've turned a blind eye to it (likely in Benny’s case) or haven't managed to put two and two together (he wouldn't put this past Ash). But two days later, after the bell had rung and Dean had watched Castiel methodically pack up his books and tidy away his desk, Charlie descends on him and loops her arm through his, her red hair bouncing as she waves a hand in front of his face. 

“Earth to Dean! Ground control to Winchester! Come in, Captain!”

“Oh - sorry, what?” He blinks and realizes that Castiel is no longer there and the door is standing open. He's been staring aimlessly into space. 

“Come on,” she tugs at him as the new class begins to file in. “I'm buying you lunch.”

“But the cafeteria is that -”

“We’re bailing. That new burger place down by the Gas ‘n’ Sip has a  _ real _ Space Invaders machine, you know the really cool giant retro kind?” Charlie is sweeping him along amidst the throngs of other students and he's following obediently, pleased to be getting out of the school and away from the one person he's pretty sure is wrecking his life right now just by being so damn handsome. “Plus I need the dirt on what's going on in Winchester-land right now, and I figured buttering you up with a milkshake and fries is the way to your heart.” They push through the double doors together and out into the sunshine, and she shoots him a devious smile. “Or should I ask Mr. Castiel Novak to direct me there instead?”

“Shut up.” He can't help the smile that tugs at his lips, though. “And it's gonna take more than fries to get anything out of me. I'm not a cheap date, thank you very much.”

“I think I can stretch it to add a sachet of ketchup, too,” she jokes.

Dean’s been to this burger place already with Sam, after he’d saved up his meager pocket money for two weeks to treat them both to a plate of sliders and two giant cokes, but he loved it enough to go back. Especially since a small voice inside of him is nudging him to talk about his monster crush on Castiel, and he knows Charlie would never judge him for it. She's eccentric, flighty, and easily distracted, but has a heart of gold and always has the very best advice. She even manages to wait until they're seated and have placed their orders before clasps her hands on the table, leans forward so that her long red hair almost dips into her iced tea, and says, “Spill.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean groans, attempting to hide his face in his hands even though he’s fully aware that he’s not fooling anybody. Charlie especially. She reaches over, grips his wrists in her cold hands and pulls them down to meet his eyes with hers. “It’s just a crush, Charlie. It’s nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Dean, I’ve known you for three years now and I’ve never seen you quite this gone over someone before. Is it an alpha thing?”

“ _ Charlie!” _ Dean hisses, yanking his hands out of her grip as the waitress brings their food and deposits it all on the table.

“I know, I know, you hate talking about it. But there’s no shame in being an omega Dean, you know that.” She steals a fry from his plate. 

“Easy for you to say,” he huffs, pulling his food closer protectively, out of her reach. “Betas have the easy life.”

“Probably,” she agrees with a nod. “But you’re making this way harder on yourself than it needs to be. We’ve all had crushes on teachers in the past. Plus, Mr. Novak is a great choice, Dean. He’s smart, helpful… and  _ totally _ dreamy. Does he know you’re an omega?”

“You’re really not letting this go, are you?”

“Nope! Trust me, Winchester, you’ll thank me one day.”

“And why exactly will I do that?”

“Because if we put our pretty little heads together, I think you stand a shot at getting Mr. Dark and Smoldering Alpha to do more than just look your way.” She’s grinning now, sipping her milkshake through the straw, and Dean can’t ignore the sharp jolt of desire he feels at the implication of her words.

“What do you mean?”

“I think he’s into you. I’ve caught him staring at your cute little tushie on more than one occasion when he knows you aren’t looking. Maybe he just needs confirmation that you’re  _ actually _ into him and that it isn’t just…” She waves a hand airily. “An omega thing.”

“It  _ isn’t  _ an omega thing!” Dean snaps. “It’s not my  _ body _ that wants him, Charlie. Well,” he reflects as a slightly wolfish grin tugs at his lips, “it’s not  _ just _ my body.”

“Ew, gross, don’t wanna know what you and your right hand get up to in your spare time.” She shudders dramatically before she settles back into the booth, tapping her bottom lip with her fingertips. “He just needs to know you’re there. And that you want him as more than just your teacher, and more than just a crush.”

“So what do I do? He keeps ignoring me.” Dean tries not to sound as dejected as he feels - but it still comes out as a petulant whine. He should probably just stick out his bottom lip and pout; it would have the same effect. 

“So?” She finishes her milkshake with a slurp. “If he hasn’t noticed you already,  _ make _ him notice you.”

“That’s exactly what Sam said, too. But  _ how _ ?”

Charlie smirks, leaning forwards conspiratorially in her seat and tossing her long red hair. “I can think of a few ways. Time to nut up, Winchester. Go get what's yours.”

 

  * ••



 

That evening, Sam goes over to his friend Kevin’s to study and Dean is left alone in the motel. He likes Kevin - the kid is kinda dorky but has a good head on his shoulders, and Sam seems to like him. So when he gets a call to say that Sam wants to sleep over, he agrees readily. It’s nice to see his kid brother making good friends, and it gives him a night all to himself to obsess over Castiel in any way he wishes.

He stretches out on his bed after his shower, towel wrapped around his waist and his skin still warm and damp, thinking about what Charlie said. About getting Castiel to notice him. The fact that she’s also suggested it as well as Sam makes him think that maybe it would be a good idea. 

He thinks about Castiel... thinks about those blue eyes and the perpetual sex-hair the man always seems to sport... then his mind wanders back to how  _ good _ he smelled. God, he smelled incredible. Dean's eyes fall closed as he remembers it. He remembers the way Castiel’s hands grasped him so tightly to stop him from falling, remembers how firm his chest felt when they collided, remembers the intoxicating scent of honey and expensive wine, and a low whimper of want falls from his lips. The omega in him is restless, wanting to be close to Castiel in more ways than one, and now in the privacy of his quiet motel room he allows himself to indulge in the fantasy of Castiel actually wanting him back. 

He runs a hand slowly down his body, stopping to caress his right nipple with his thumb, and sighs deeply. He's certain Castiel is solid muscle under his clothes. He imagines the man standing over him now, hands at his tie, undoing it lazily, looking down at him with lust flashing in those blue eyes. The mental image of them flashing red for just an instant encourages Dean’s hands lower, across the flat expanse of his stomach and down to where the towel is loosely tied. The air is starting to feel hot and humid around him, is starting to take on the rich, musky scent of aroused omega - something he rarely allows himself to indulge in - and he tugs the towel free of his hips to let it fall open. He's hard already, his teenage body reacting eagerly to him relaxing his iron-cold control, and the air in the motel room feels good on his exposed skin. He wonders if Castiel would like what he saw, would like his body, would like  _ him _ . He wants to know what the alpha smells like when he's aroused, when he's lost in the throes of passion, when he's got Dean in his arms, and…

“ _Oh_ ,” Dean finally grips his straining erection and it feels incredible. With his eyes closed he can almost imagine it's Castiel’s hand... Castiel lying on the bed next to him... Castiel nuzzling at his neck and kissing him right over his scent glands... right over where a mating bite would go. His free hand wanders up to touch that point, eyes squeezing shut, imagining Castiel biting him, marking him, _claiming him_ as his own. It feels wrong to want this - the alpha is older than him and by all rights should be unattainable - but oh god Dean _wants_. He strokes himself experimentally and whines as he realises just how close to the edge he already is. Thinking about Castiel has got him more turned on than he realised. Precome is beading at the tip of his cock and as he parts his legs slightly he moans at the sensation of slick between the globes of his ass. _Fuck_. He wants Castiel to see him this way: laid out in invitation, slick and ready for him, so hard and needy. His hand moves over himself with deliberate slowness, trying to fend off his impending orgasm. 

“Cas -” He hears himself gasp. “ _ Castiel _ .”

Then he gives in completely to his desires. He raises one leg, planting his foot on the bed, and reaches between his legs to run his fingers through the slick forming between his cheeks, dipping a finger in to circle his hole. And that's what does it: imagining that it's gorgeous alpha Castiel leaning over him about to finger him open. He comes with a broken moan - the word  _ alpha _ is absolutely  _ not _ on his lips - coating his hand and quivering abs in warm sticky come as pleasure cascades through him, leaving him a whimpering wreck in its aftermath. 

He doesn't move for a while, letting his heart rate come back down to somewhere near normal, staring up at the watermark on the motel ceiling and trying to catch his breath.  _ Damn _ that was good. He can’t even find it in him to feel any level of guilt because every instinct he has is telling him that he and Castiel should be together. He wipes himself down with his towel, throws it on the floor and rolls onto his stomach, eventually drifting off with his head pillowed on his crossed forearms, and dreams of alpha muscle and musky scent and mating bites. He wakes hard and needy and whining in the middle of the night, stroking himself to completion all over again with a cry, two fingers buried inside himself and tugging at his relaxed, slick hole.

He wakes the next morning with a new resolve: he wants Castiel’s attention. And one way or another, he’s determined to get it.

It only takes a week. One week - seven days - which is much quicker than Dean expected yet much longer than he’d hoped. He had foolishly dreamed that he would wander into his English class the following day and that something about him would make Castiel look his way. Maybe something in his appearance or in his scent, the sway of his hips,  _ something _ that would make him alluring to the older man. He even tried a coy, sultry look from under his lashes when his name was called out during the register, but Castiel barely spared him a glance. 

So he stops goofing off during class and starts paying attention. He gets paper planes thrown at his head for raising his hand and asking questions but he finds he doesn’t care, especially when Charlie shoots him an encouraging grin and a double thumbs up. Castiel always answers his queries the same way: factually, in-depth, and so coolly he could be talking to anyone. So Dean steps it up. He suddenly develops a case of chronic klutziness: he drops his books right by Castiel’s desk as he’s leaving class, and the teacher helps him pick then all up before turning back to his work. He stumbles when walking past Castiel in the corridors, finding himself caught by a supportive arm and righted again but Castiel just walks on. He even goes as far as pretending to stumble and fall on the steps leading up to the library once as Castiel is coming down them, purposely not getting up right away.

“Dean? Are you hurt?” A strong hand comes under his armpit and helps him back to his feet.Then they’re standing with mere inches between them, blue eyes locked onto green, and Dean’s mouth runs painfully dry. He swears he sees Castiel’s throat work as he swallows before his teacher takes a breath as though he’s about to say something else. His hand is still on Dean’s arm, and the skin beneath his grip feels like it’s on fire. The omega inside him is threatening to rear its head, sending pinpricks of excitement up and down his spine to coil in anticipation in his pelvis. Then Castiel inhales again and it’s immediately clear to Dean that he isn’t just breathing normally. He’s scenting the air as subtly as he can, and the few inches of space between them feels diminished instantly. Dean feels his cheeks heat up as Castiel’s eyes continue to bore into his as if searching for something, then he draws back suddenly as though scalded. The warmth of his hand is gone and Dean almost falls forward as the loss of body heat unbalances him. 

“I’ll see you in class, Dean.”

Then he’s gone, trench coat whipping around his calves as he descends the stairs at double speed. Dean sinks down to sit against the wall, adrenaline flooding away from him quickly and leaving him lightheaded. He runs a hand down his face, chilled, and loses track of how long he sits there until the bell clangs and draws him out of his stupor. He can’t get Castiel out of his head, and this time during their interaction, he’s certain that his feelings of magnetic attraction weren’t just one way. Sighing, he hauls himself to his feet and trudges to class, his cheeks heating up as he passes Castiel’s desk while trying fervently not to look in his direction. What  _ happened _ back there? And why the hell did Castiel run off?

The class passes as a glacial pace, Dean keeping his head down and mulling over the incident outside the library. He’s so lost in his moping that he doesn’t realise someone is standing over him. 

“Dean?” 

The voice sends a shiver down his spine and he glances up - Castiel is there,  _ right there _ next to him, standing by his side with one hand resting gently on the corner of his desk, fingertips barely brushing the aged wood. He swallows, looks up even further to meet dark, sparkling blue eyes which seem to hold a thousand unsaid words, and his breath catches in his throat. This is the closest they’ve been since Castiel helped Dean up outside the library and his scent is winding its way around Dean like a cloak. He inhales visibly and swears his teacher’s pupils dilate just a little. Then, so softly that Dean almost misses it completely, Castiel’s hand leaves the desk to brush his shoulder, and the world that had been spinning way too fast suddenly grinds to a halt.

“See me after class, Dean. In my office. We need to talk.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because my beta is a gem and got this done in record time, here's the next chapter. Let's amp up the tension a little, shall we?

Dean is a mess of nerves by the end of the day, and not even Charlie can calm him down. She tries to reassure him that this is all part of the plan, that Castiel clearly wants to make a move and obviously needs to do it in private, but Dean isn't so sure. The stoic alpha has been so controlled and collected - except in the few, rare seconds when he's not - that Dean doesn't know what to expect. He had gone to Castiel’s classroom after class only to be asked, shortly, to come back at the end of the day. Castiel had looked addled and Dean had retreated meekly, dreading the anticipation of the next couple of hours. 

“Maybe he’ll throw you across his desk and give you a mating bite right then and there,” Charlie says at lunch, half dreamily and half in disgust. Dean throws a french fry at her, which she deftly catches and shoves into her mouth. “Or maybe -”   


“Thank you, Charlie, I get it.” Dean says loudly, feeling his cheeks flame at the mere idea. An idea that his body is very, very much on board with.    


All too soon and not soon enough, he finds himself outside Castiel’s office, one hand raised to knock. Overcome with sudden nerves, he drops it and he chances a glance down at himself, hoping he looks OK. Battered, faded jeans with a hole in one knee, red and grey plaid flannel shirt thrown over a black t-shirt, and the amulet Sam gave him for Christmas one year is slung around his neck. It's scruffier than he would have liked, but it’s too late to do anything now apart from run a hand through his hair and hope for the best. Wiping his clammy palm on his jeans, he lifts a hand once more and knocks.    
  
•••   
  
“Dean,” Castiel is sitting behind his desk, frowning down at a notepad, and barely glances up when he enters. He gestures to one of the squashy leather bucket chairs facing the desk with a vague sweep of his hand. “Please sit down.”   


Dean does as requested, letting his bag fall to the floor at his feet, and wonders if Castiel can hear his racing heart - or smell his instant and visceral reaction to being in this room that so intrinsically belongs to the alpha before him. The room is drenched in Castiel’s scent, and as the alpha continues to read the page of his notebook and ignores him, Dean takes the opportunity to look around and subtly wipes his palms on his jeans once more. 

The far wall to Castiel’s left is lined with bookshelves all stuffed to the point of bursting and Dean squints to read some of the titles. A lot of the classics, some modern, and many in foreign languages. Leather-bound books jostle for space between flimsy paperbacks. The floor beneath Dean’s feet is standard for the school, scuffed lino, but Castiel has put a rug down to cover most of it. It looks old, vintage, with some sort of oriental pattern on it. 

Dean swallows, hard. His body is reacting with barely-tempered excitement at being so close to his alpha -  _ an _ alpha, dammit - and he can feel tendrils of arousal coiling in his pelvis. His throat is bone-dry, he's light-headed, and he's only just holding himself back from throwing his body across the desk at Castiel. The only sound in the room, aside from Dean’s own blood roaring in his ears, comes from an oversized clock on the wall beside the window, ticking with what seems like devastating slowness. It reads 3:16. Then 3:17. Dean’s hands shake.    
Castiel still hasn't looked up at him. He's writing something down - it looks like he's gripping the pen with more force than strictly necessary - and is he clenching his jaw? Wildly, Dean wonders if Castiel feels the same as he does and is having to exercise ironclad control not to cross the room, rip him from his seat and capture his mouth the way Dean is aching for him to do. Eventually, when it feels like a decade has passed in utter silence, Castiel sets down his pen and looks up, steepling his fingers and pinning Dean with such an intense look that the skin on the back of his neck prickles.    


“Dean, we need to discuss something.”    


This is it. Dean’s spine straightens in anticipation and his hands are knotted together in his lap. Castiel is going to either reprimand him for his behavior or confess that he feels the same. And Dean knows exactly which one he wants. He braces himself for rejection, while hoping against hope that he gets the one thing he wants. Castiel.    


“Your grades.”   


Wait, _what_?   


“My -” he falters, his voice not working properly. “My grades?”   


“Yes.” Castiel flips open a file in front of him, releasing Dean’s gaze, and Dean finds he can breathe again. “You were averaging a B- in this class last year, in spite of your “goofing off”.” Oh God, Castiel actually used air quotes. Dean doesn't know whether to laugh, cry, or spontaneously combust. “Right up to Christmas break. Now you're barely scraping a pass despite your attendance going up and your seemingly piqued interest in the topics I teach. I wanted to know if there's a reason for this slump in your academic abilities, and to discuss what we can do about it.”   


Dean’s head is spinning. He's reeling. He’d been so sure that Castiel had brought him here to address the insurmountable sexual tension between them. He had been prepared for the  _ I'm your teacher, you're my student, we can't let this happen even if we want to _ speech but  _ this _ ? His  _ grades _ ? It doesn't make sense and he shakes his head dazedly, trying to clear the haze.    


“I'm, um, I'm sorry, sir. I guess I didn't realise they were that bad,” Dean finally answers.   


“You didn't?”    


Castiel is looking at him again, pinning him in place with that cobalt-blue stare, and the curls of arousal in Dean’s pelvis aren't getting the message that this is going sideways. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, silently begging his body not to betray him. And did he imagine it or did Castiel’s eyes flick down to his lap then back up?   


“Dean, I don't mean this to sound too harsh, but how did you not notice your grades were slipping? I hand back every assignment with corrections and suggestions. Do you not read them?”   


The short answer is no. He doesn't. Laterally he's been looking at his work once it's given back to him but hasn't really seen it. He's been distracted by thoughts of Castiel taking his time poring over his assignments, scribbling on the same paper Dean worked on, and more than once he's been fixated by the way their fingers brushed as he took his work from his teacher. Now he realises his major error - but it doesn't make this easier. In fact, he feels worse. He's been obsessing so much over his gorgeous alpha teacher that not only has he made a fool of himself but he's let his grades fall too. Great. Ten out of ten for idiocy, Winchester.    


“I'm sorry, sir.” He repeats, trying to work some saliva into his mouth so that his words come out as more than a croak. “I guess I've been a bit… distracted.”   


“Distracted…” The way Castiel says the word sends bells of alarm and intrigue ringing in Dean’s brain. He says it like a caress, like an invitation, and that red hue glints in his eyes for just a moment. Dean isn't imagining this, he  _ isn't _ . “I'm very sorry to hear that.”    


Castiel sits back in his seat, palms clasped together, and regards Dean with what seems to be cool detachment but is that a glimmer of something more behind his gaze? Dean can't be sure. Hell, he can barely hear his own thoughts over the racing of his heart.    


“I could -” Castiel swallows, his eyes flicking up to Dean then back to his papers, “- offer you some extra tutoring. If you wish. After school.”   


“Really?” Dean tries to choke down his eagerness. After school tutoring, alone with Castiel? Sign him the fuck up! “That would be really helpful. Sir.”   


“Good. Excellent.”   


Castiel can't seem to look at him, and the eager omega in him is warring with the rational part of his brain. Is it because Castiel is so tempted by him that allowing himself a single glance would be too much? Or is it because he's disgusted at Dean’s flirtatious attitude and wants to keep things professional?    


“You could come to my classroom during your lunch hour and we could brush up on your essay writing skills.” Castiel is frowning slightly, and Dean’s omega aches to lean in and soothe the worry lines away. “Or perhaps…”   


Perhaps...?   


“Why don't you come over to my house after school this evening?” The words are said in such a rush that Dean almost misses them. “I have an appropriate space in my office, all the books from our current coursework are at my disposal. And I can assure you there will be no… distractions.”   


The way he says it cements within Dean the certainty that however Castiel may feel towards him, this is purely academic. It's all about his grades. There's a firm finality to Castiel’s speech that leaves no room for argument and Dean has to swallow down a lump of disappointment at the realisation. But, his eager omega side chirps up anyway - time alone with Castiel outside of school? If he can't get everything he wants, at least he can have this.    


Dean can't decide if an hour in Castiel’s presence alone and unsupervised but unable to do the things he wants so badly to do will kill or cure him.    


But he's more than willing to find out.    


“Shall we say seven o’clock?” Castiel is scribbling something on a notepad and Dean leans forward to watch - the slanting cursive is so familiar to him and it makes him smile to watch the nib of the pen form he flowing letters at Castiel’s command. Then the piece of paper is proffered to him. “My address.”   


“Seven sounds great.” Before he can lose his nerve - or launch himself at the alpha - Dean stands, scoops up his bag and takes the paper. “See you then.” Then, over his shoulder as he turns the handle of the door, “I can't wait.”   


And with that, with his proverbial tail perked up and a definite swing to his hips, Dean Winchester leaves the office.    
  
•••   
  
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, double fuck, oh  _ god _ . What has he done? What the hell has he just done?    


Castiel drops his head into his hands and a whine of combined distress and desperation falls from his lips. Being in the same room as Dean, alone and in such close contact for such a long time, has tested every shred of restraint he possesses. There had been one moment, when Dean had looked up at him through those long lashes of his and said that he was sorry but he was incredibly distracted, that Castiel had almost leapt across his desk to take the beautiful young omega in his arms. It had been torture to remain in his seat, and even more agonising to retain his mark of impassivity throughout the conversation when all he wanted to do was fall at Dean’s feet and confess his utter, all-consuming infatuation.    


But now he's gone and done something really stupid. He's invited the gorgeous object of his obsession into his home, and God only knows how he's going to control himself. He tries to reason that this is all technically innocent: providing extra tutoring for students is a part of his job, and at present Dean certainly needs it.    


But the alpha inside him is restless, reminding him that there's nothing innocent about it at all. He already had to ask Dean to return after school instead of after class because he had been so worked up at the time, pacing his office and barely able to control his thoughts. Any time alone with Dean was taxing, dangerous even, because he was so enamoured with the beautiful omega that he sometimes had to wrench his gaze away to stop himself staring all day long. He could easily tutor Dean in the privacy of a classroom or the library. Or a public place, such as the cafe down the street where his brother Jimmy sometimes provides extra credit tutoring for his top students. But he hasn't chosen any of those places: he's opted instead for the one place he shouldn't have even offered, and by doing that he's crossed a very clear line. Teacher-student relationships are always forbidden, in every school he's worked at, and the fact that Dean is over eighteen is irrelevant. The boy is still in his teens and Castiel is a decade older. He would be fired on the spot if anyone knew what went through his head every time those candy-apple eyes met his, Or whenever Dean brushed past him in the corridors or his classroom, smelling like butter popcorn and whiskey and long summer days…   


God, Castiel is so fucked.    


_Don’t go there,_ _Castiel_ , his brother had warned him not two days ago. _He's out of bounds._ _  
_

But hell, that just made him want Dean even more. He's drawn to Dean in a way he's never felt before, not even with the omega lovers he's had in the past. He runs a hand down his face, exhausted. His nights have been so restless of late, his dreams filled with lithe muscle and tanned skin and pretty lips, Dean’s infectious smile and the way his hips sway as he walks thanks to his bow-legged gait. He's woken, shaking and sweat-drenched with a hand at his neck, searching for a mating bite that isn't there and feeling crushing despair when he realises it wasn't real. He dreams of stripping off plaid shirts, of discarding comfortably worn-in jeans, of bonding with his omega in all the ways he possibly can, of kissing Dean over and over and over…   


He's _so_ _fucked_.   


Unable to concentrate, Castiel takes the rest of the afternoon off, claiming he has a headache. When he sticks his head into his brother’s classroom to say goodbye, Jimmy gives him a stern look as though he can read his mind. Castiel just waves him off and hurries out of school. His hands shake as he unlocks his car. His body is singing with euphoria at the knowledge that tonight, in just a few short hours, he's going to be alone with the beautiful omega.    


And not just any omega.  _ His _ omega.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another big thank you to Tricia for being so awesome and getting these beta'd so fast!

Seven o’clock finds Dean on the steps of a pleasant looking, sprawling house on the outskirts of town. Castiel’s garden is well tended, the shutters on the windows are painted white, and it's all incredibly domestic. Better than the upbringing Dean’s had, bouncing around motels and cheap apartments, never staying long enough to leave so much as an assprint on the sofa. But now isn't the time for reflection and regret; he's nervous as hell, wondering what on earth he's gotten himself into, and his hand shakes a little as he knocks. He tentatively sniffs himself as he drops his arm. He had decided, anxiously, to be a little reckless and leave the house without is scent blockers on tonight to try and entice Castiel into action of some sort. But just as he was leaving his father had collared him and shoved the bottle at him with a gruff, “Can't be too careful, Dean.” And ever the obedient son, he had retreated to apply a thin layer over all his scent glands and pulse points, trying to quash his irritation and disappointment. Oh well. He’ll have to use other means to find out what Castiel really thinks of him. 

It takes less than a minute for Castiel to answer the door, and when he does, Dean is rendered completely mute at the sight of him. The English teacher is dressed down in dark denim jeans and a striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. It hugs his chest and biceps perfectly, the cut of the jeans accentuates his waist, and Dean can already feel his body eagerly pleading to move closer. The scent of honey and fine wine and  _ Castiel _ is strong now, in his home environment, and Dean wonders how the hell he’s going to get through this evening without either making a fool of himself or deciding to hell with it and going for what he wants. 

He already knows he isn't meant to get through it without either of those things occurring, but if Castiel wants to play at professionalism then so can he. 

“Dean, please come in.” Castiel stands back and holds the door open for the omega, and Dean obediently enters and stands in the hallway. He breathes deeply and allows his inner omega to bask in the scent of relaxed and domestic alpha. The sound of the door closing seems incredibly final, a sign perhaps that whatever life they've lived before tonight has come to a close and something is going to change... one way or another. 

Castiel stares silently at him for a moment before seeming to collect himself. “Would you like a tour? Then we can get down to business.” Then, realising the potential implications of his words, he clears his throat and blushes an attractive shade of pink. “Studying. Your tutoring. That's what I meant.”

Ducking his head to hide a smirk, Dean shrugs and says, “Sounds good, sir. You have a really great house.” Tonight may work out better than he hoped at this rate. 

“Thank you. Please follow me.”

Castiel’s house is even more impressive inside. The kitchen is pale and light with marbled worktops and a huge freestanding island in the centre. The living room is decorated in fuller, muted tones, and resembles an old-fashioned smoking room from 1940s gangster flicks, which Dean likes immediately. The walls are lined with bookshelves and the vintage leather sofa looks comfortable and inviting. Then Castiel shows him to the dining room and Dean’s gaze is immediately drawn to something outside and he gapes in shock. 

“Holy shit,” Dean can't stop himself from gawking. “You have a hot tub?”

“Yes,” Castiel looks a little disinterested. “I rarely use it.”

“Seriously? Oh dude, we  _ have _ to fix that!” Forgetting himself, Dean stares out at the square wooden structure in exuberance. “I've never even been in one. If Sammy and I had one I swear I’d just hang out in it all day.”

“Really?” And Castiel says it in such a way that it sends sparks of lightning right down Dean’s spine. It's a purr, soft and sultry, and when Dean turns to look at the alpha his mouth runs dry with excitement at how predatory he suddenly looks. “I think I'd like to see that…”

Dean’s heart hammers in his chest. The space between him and Castiel has diminished significantly and they’re almost close enough to touch. But then Castiel seems to remember himself and takes a step back, running a hand through his hair - messing it up more than it already is - and drops his gaze.

“Alright, Dean, that’s the tour. I think we’ll be most comfortable in the living room,” he gestures vaguely to the sofa and Dean obeys, walking over and sitting down with his mind racing. 

They work quietly for a while as Castiel goes through an essay of Dean’s and makes mild critiques before the tension in the room becomes too much. They’re sitting closely together, and the scent of Castiel is driving Dean mad - it makes him want to crawl out of his skin, reach out to touch, or do  _ something _ \- and he knows he can't just sit here all night. Ever since the hot tub comment, Castiel has been the picture of control and professionalism and it's driving Dean crazy. Was he genuinely just invited here to study? Or was that an elaborate cover story, and Castiel's has fallen for his own tale?

“Sir? Can I ask you something?” Dean leans back in his seat, scrutinising Castiel, trying to work out what’s going on in the alpha’s head. Castiel’s scent seems suddenly concentrated, laced with concern, and he’s frowning. 

“Of course, Dean. Anything. Is it to do with English?”

“No, it’s -“ He breaks off, unsure whether or not to continue, but ultimately decides he has to know one way or another if he stands even the  _ tiniest _ chance with Castiel. It’s pretty obvious the older alpha isn’t going to give more than a single subtle hint away unless prompted. He takes a breath, then blurts, “Are you an alpha?” And then internally rolls his eyes at himself. That was  _ not _ what he meant to say. Besides, he already knows the answer.

“Yes, Dean, I am.” Castiel’s frown has deepened and he’s sitting a little straighter. “If that’s a problem for you, taking extra lessons from me, I can recommend my brother. Jimmy is a beta, and maybe you’d feel more comfortable in his presence. He -“

“You know I’m an omega?” He feels like he’s stating the obvious again, but he just  _ has _ to be sure.

“Yes,” Castiel looks surprised, then guilt-stricken, then back to concerned. “Which is what I meant when I said I’d understand if you feel uncomfortable around me. I admit it isn’t the impression I get, but I could be… I could be misreading things.”

“No, I feel pretty comfortable around you, sir,” Dean says slowly. It's sort of a lie. He feels on all kinds of nervous when he's around Cas, and definitely on edge, but not in an uncomfortable way. In an  _ I’d like to get even more comfortable with you _ kind of way. “I don't mind that you're an alpha. I actually kinda like it. But… how did you know? That I'm not a beta?”

“Your scent, Dean.” Castiel blushes faintly. “I know you wear blockers and I understand that you may wish to keep your identity private. But to me, you smell…”

The older man trails off, blushes harder, then glances down at his paperwork. In the air, his scent changes a little more, becomes a little sweeter and a little more enticing. And with sudden clarity, Dean realises Castiel  _ likes _ him. Castiel is at war with himself, wanting Dean badly and not allowing himself to have him. 

Well, fuck that. A small, sultry, sly smile spreads across Dean’s lips as he eyes the alpha, as he sees Castiel’s eyes widen and darken as he realises his admission. 

_ Make him notice you _ , his friends said. Well, here goes nothing. 

 •••

 

“I'm kinda thirsty.” Dean deposits his books and notepad on the table and stretches with his arms above his head in a deliberately sinuous motion - which works. Castiel’s eyes are drawn to his waist where his t-shirt is riding up, and the alpha licks his lips then snaps his gaze away and stands abruptly. 

“What would you like? Water? Juice?”

“Anything, sir. Whatever you've got,” Dean smiles up at him all doe eyes and long lashes and watches as Castiel hastens to retreat to the kitchen. Then he stands and follows him, drinking in the scent of confused, flustered alpha as he does. Castiel isn't as good at tampering down his emotions as he thinks he is. 

He leans a hip against the counter and scans the kitchen until his eyes land on a bottle of wine, already opened with a fancy silver stopper in it. Perfect. 

“Hey, Castiel?” He saunters over and picks up the bottle and two glasses which are perched conveniently on a shelf nearby. “I’d really prefer this if you don't mind.”

Castiel, who had startled at his voice and clearly hadn’t realised he  was followed, eyes both Dean and the bottle with thinly-veiled suspicion. His scent saturates further with confusion. 

“Dean, I'm sorry. You're not old enough to drink, and it's inappropriate. I've got some juice -”

“I'm not a child, sir.” 

Emboldened, Dean opens the bottle and audaciously pours himself a generous glass then holds out a second to Castiel, who is frozen with one hand on the refrigerator door, looking utterly perplexed. But beneath his bewilderment, his scent is changing slightly, becoming sweeter. Intrigue, he thinks. Dean barely contains a smile. Now this is a game he can win, he's sure of it. He edges a little closer, setting his own glass down and allows his gaze to wander deliberately up the alpha’s body, slowly, until their eyes meet. 

“I like that shirt on you, sir.” Dean murmurs, low and sultry. “It looks really good.”

“Dean, stop.” But there’s no heat to Castiel’s protest so he steps it up a notch. Moving closer still, so that barely a few inches separate them, he lifts a hand and places it deliberately on Castiel’s bicep. Castiel’s glass clinks as he sets it down on the marble counter. 

“You look so good tonight, sir.” He purrs, looking up from beneath his lashes in a deliberate attempt to seduce. Judging by the darkening of Castiel’s eyes, the changes in his breathing, and the sudden rich tones to his scent, it's working. 

“You're playing with fire,” his teacher breathes, blue eyes locked onto green. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Leaning in and inclining his head to bare his neck, Dean whispers, “Maybe I want the burn.”

“Dean,” It comes out as a growl, and then Castiel’s mouth is on his, kissing him deeply. It’s the type of kiss that  _ claims _ , demands, makes Dean weak at the knees and sends lightning down his spine. Castiel’s hands come up to his waist, wrapping around him to hold him close, and Dean’s hands are fisted in Castiel’s shirt. He's shoved - almost carried backwards until his back meets the wall behind him - then Castiel’s entire body is pressed against him thigh to chest, and Dean is moaning desperately into his teacher’s mouth as heat surges through him. He's achingly hard between his legs, already slick between his cheeks, and Castiel is licking deeply into his mouth so damn perfectly as he’s pinned against the wall and ravished. A hand slides up Dean’s spine to the base of his neck to squeeze gently, and Dean relaxes into the hold, parting his lips to allow Castiel to drink his fill of his mouth. The sharp scent of omega slick is infusing the air, entwining with the heady aroma of Castiel’s arousal and alpha dominance. Dean is breathless with it all, feeling lightheaded and beginning to see spots behind his closed eyes. 

Then his world is moving. He's being lifted up by strong hands beneath his thighs and spun around until he's sitting on the kitchen counter. Castiel moves in so he’s standing between his legs, still kissing him like he needs it to live, and Dean is purring deep in his chest - actually  _ purring _ . He's never done that before, didn't know he  _ could _ do that, and the sound seems to be driving Castiel crazy. Hands are gripping him tighter, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Castiel’s mouth is hot on his, claiming and consuming, and Dean aches with arousal and need. Fingers trembling, nervous in spite of his earlier bravado, he drops his hands to the front of Castiel’s jeans and fumbles with the belt buckle. He’s desperate to feel hot alpha skin against his hands, to find out what the man tastes like, to - 

And that's when Castiel pulls away. Not completely, but enough for Dean to gasp at the loss. The alpha looks  _ wrecked _ \- flushed and panting, eyes dark and full of lust - and his hands remain on Dean’s hips, yet he steps back to put just enough space between them to make Dean let go of his belt. 

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice is hoarse and rough, and he swallows a few times before continuing. “What you do to me… You have no idea…”

He lifts a hand and runs it through Dean’s tousled hair, and the omega leans into the touch, pressing his nose to the alpha’s wrist and inhaling his scent. His body aches, thrumming with arousal. He's hard and needy in his jeans, and the air reeks with the smell of his slick. But the fear of rejection clogs up his throat, and he reaches for Castiel, trying to pull him back in. His hand is clasped before he can make contact, however, and he glances up to see blue eyes sparking with arousal, need, concern, and… regret. 

“Dean, I can’t. This - what we've already done - it's too much. I could lose my job and you…” Castiel sighs deeply, and Dean can see him beginning to close off, to hide his desires and needs behind the stoic mask he's so familiar with. “You're too young for this. You don't know what you want, you -”

“I do! Don't try to tell me I don't, that I'm just some mindless slut who will spread my legs for anyone.” Fury bubbles up in Dean, enhanced by his arousal and the apparent rejection, and he pulls away, hunching in on himself. If he was an alpha he would be bearing his teeth, but instead all he can do is retreat, fuming. “It's  _ you  _ I want, Cas. I've wanted you for a long time.”

Castiel smiles just a little at the nickname, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Dean’s ear. He looks for a second like he's about to lean in again, as though Dean’s words have swayed him, and Dean takes advantage of that fact. He slides down from the counter, grimacing at the feel of his underwear sticking to him, and wraps his arms around Castiel’s waist, tilting his head and baring his neck. 

“It's you I want,” he repeats, his voice deliberately breathy and low. “Can't get you out of my head. Wanted you since the day I saw you.”

“Dean..” 

Warm breath ghosts over the skin of his throat and Dean’s eyes fall closed. God, he  _ wants.  _ If Castiel wanted to take him, knot him,  _ mate  _ him right now he knows he would say yes without a second thought. He wonders if his scent is as strong to Castiel as it is to himself through the layer of blockers he's wearing. He wishes fervently he hadn't had to put them on at all. He wants Castiel to know him, know  _ all _ of him. 

Then, with a low groan of defeat, Castiel is on him again. His hands cup Dean’s face as he kisses him, tongue probing entry into the omega’s mouth. Dean is pressed against the counter again and their kisses become hot, ferocious, laden with need and heat. Dean’s pretty sure he’s purring again, although he can barely hear himself think over his own heart pounding in his ears, and he's hard as a rock where Castiel pushes against him fully and -  _ yes _ ! He can feel the hard, thick length of the alpha’s erection against his hip, and the low whine he lets out makes Castiel growl and hold him even tighter. 

Then, to his utter dismay, the ringing of his cell phone somehow penetrates the haze of lust and arousal surrounding them and it takes him almost a full minute to tear his mouth from Castiel’s and gasp, “I should get that.”

Reluctantly, Castiel’s hands relinquish their grip and Dean manages to stumble to the living room and locate his phone with trembling hands. He's hot all over, ass and legs wet with slick, and he's never been so turned on in his entire life. When he sees  _ Dad _ flash across his screen he groans audibly and has to force himself to take a few steadying breaths before answering. 

“Yeah?”

“Nice way to greet your old man,” John Winchester barks and Dean suppresses an eye roll. Castiel has approached him from behind and has wrapped one arm around his waist and is dragging his other hand through Dean’s hair, still growling low in his throat but quietly enough not to be heard down the line. 

“Sorry, Dad. Is everything alright?” He hopes his voice doesn't betray the raw need coursing through his veins, especially when Castiel pushes his erection against his ass. His legs nearly give way and the air thickens with the scent of his slick. 

“Yes, fine. I'm picking Sammy up from basketball practice and thought you'd need a ride too. Are you done with homework club?”

Dean does roll his eyes at this. Homework club, give him a break. Behind him, Castiel massages his scalp and it takes all of Dean’s admittedly limited self-control not to collapse into a whining, desperate mess at the alpha’s feet. But the thought of seeing his father right now, when he's painfully aroused and slick and reeking of lust is sobering and horrifying simultaneously, and he wriggles a little to free himself from Cas’ hold. 

“No! I mean, no thanks. I'm gonna walk, it's nice out.”

“Suit yourself. Dinner in a half hour, think you'll be home by then?” 

It isn't really a question. John is military-grade strict about them eating together as a family whenever he's home and he knows his excuses will fall on deaf, irritable ears. Trying to keep the regret from his voice he says that he will be, and hangs up. Castiel has moved closer again, is holding him once more, but this time his touch is less lustful and more comforting caresses and Dean could melt into his arms and stay there forever, it feels so damn good. 

“You have to go,” Castiel murmurs into his neck, kissing right over his scent gland and Dean bares his neck obediently. 

“Yeah. Sorry. I really don't wanna, but my dad…”

“You don't have to explain yourself, sweetheart.” Cas nibbles on his skin gently, but enough to elicit a wail of need from Dean’s lips and he twists in the alpha’s arms to capture his mouth. “I'll miss you.” 

Euphoria mixed with a deep longing pulses through Dean at these words. The alpha will  _ miss him _ . A warm glow curls happily in his chest and settles there, and a purr bubbles up inside him.

“I gotta clean up a bit,” Dean shifts unpleasantly, his boxers sticking to him. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Go ahead.” Castiel's steps away after stealing another kiss, visibly trying to calm himself. His his scent is slowly devolving from aroused, dominant alpha into something more subtle and familiar, the rich honey scent filling Dean’s nose and beginning to relax him. It should bother him, how he feels completely at ease with this alpha but all he feels is  _ good  _ and  _ safe _ and  _ don'tmakemeleave _ . With some effort, he tears himself away from Castiel and stumbles to the bathroom to clean himself up as best he can with trembling hands. The omega in him is screaming at him to stay, pleading with him, protesting that he needs to remain here with his alpha, that they've only just found each other, and he feels a little bit shaken and tearful by the time he emerges and sees Castiel standing in the hallway, waiting for him. 

“Oh, Dean.” Instantly, he's wrapped in the warm embrace of the older man and he relaxes into it, sighing contentedly as Castiel nuzzles at his throat. “I don't want you to leave either, sweetheart. You're… Dean, you're incredible. I always wondered… I never thought…” 

Dean’s phone bleeps again and he whines, pressing closer before reluctantly allowing Castiel to take his shoulders and push him away. After one last stolen kiss, he's opening the door and feeling chilled and unbearably sad at having to leave. But that sadness dissipates almost instantly as Castiel presses one more kiss to the back of his neck and whispers deliciously into his ear. 

“Same time tomorrow, Dean. I think we have a lot of work to do. And don't wear your scent blockers this time…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might be a little slower over the next few weeks because I fly to Thailand today for honeymoon. But since I wrote the majority of Rise and Shine while I was in Rome, you never know! ♥


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay posting this, I didn't get as much writing done on honeymoon as I thought. But huge thank you to Tricia as always, for getting this done so fast ♥

Trembling with arousal, Castiel gets himself off in the shower - twice - moaning Dean’s name and gasping as he comes. Across town, a desperate omega is stroking himself in the shower with two fingers as deep inside him as they'll go, panting and whining and shuddering through his orgasm.    
They both dream of each other that night, and Dean wakes up with his sheets soaked with slick and his brother screwing up his nose in distaste.    
  
•••   
  
Dean avoids everyone at school the next day. He spends his lessons with his head down, his lunch hour in the library, and even Charlie can't sniff him out because he heads the other way when he sees her bouncing red curls turn in his direction. He woke up confused, horny, and absolutely desperate for Castiel. The need he felt for him almost brought him to tears. And not just for his body, either; for his scent, his comfort, the touch of his skin, the warmth of his smile, the sparkle in his eyes whenever he let his guard drop and  _ really _ looked at him. 

He knew when he crossed the threshold of Castiel’s house that he was in trouble. When the alpha had kissed him, he knew he was falling. But it wasn't until he lay alone in bed that he realised just how screwed he actually was. His body, mind and soul were craving the alpha and it scared him shitless. Walking down the steps of Castiel’s home under the cool cover of darkness had been torturous. Each step felt harder than the last, and as Castiel’s scent slowly faded it had felt as though a part of Dean had faded with it. And that was just the start of it all. 

When he got back to the motel, he'd started feeling nauseous. Sweat was trickling down the centre of his spine and his mouth kept filling with saliva, the nasty kind that preludes bile, and he spat numerous times on the sidewalk during his walk home. But he forgot all that pretty quickly when he walked in to his father and Sam sitting at the dinner table. His father took one deep sniff of the air and pinned him with a John Winchester Special - the kind of look that always makes Dean feel as though his soul is being examined through a magnifying glass. A shiver made its way down his spine as his brain started screaming at him:  _ he knows! _ John knows that he kissed an alpha. Oh god. He had swayed where he stood, and suddenly an arm came around his waist and he was being guided to sit down on the bed. 

“What happened, Dean?” John asked, taking his school bag from him and handing it off to Sam without sparing a glance at his youngest son. “You look terrible. And you smell…” 

John scented the air again, leaning in a little towards Dean who recoiled towards the head of the bed. Shit. Shit. He must reek of Castiel! He must have the alpha’s scent all over him. His father is going to go nuts. But John seemed to heed Dean’s reticence and sat back, regarding him through narrowed eyes. Eyes which slid from Dean’s mouth to his neck, down to his trembling hands then back up to level with his gaze. Then he slapped both palms to his own thighs and stood up. 

“Go take a shower. Sammy and I got pizza, we saved you some. Pepperoni. You need to eat if you're gonna get sick. Keep your strength up.”

“O-OK.” He watched as John returned to his seat at the table, watched him crack open another perspiring beer and take a long swallow. Watched Sam, who was regarding him quizzically, clearly wanting to ask him a million questions but holding himself back. And so, both to avoid further comment and to take himself off somewhere private, he headed for the bathroom and closed the door carefully behind him. 

His reflection in the mirror stared out at him, looking harassed, sickly and almost haunted. His lips were kiss-swollen still and his neck… Oh fuck. He clapped a hand to the warm skin, covering the brief hint of teeth marks right over his scent gland. Castiel bit him, he remembers that well. It was only gentle, it had  _ felt _ gentle at least, but they'd been so caught up in each other that it was clearly harder than he thought at the time. And John had seen, oh god. He stripped quickly, hands shaking, and showered under the hottest water he could stand. Then he ate with his father and brother before claiming he felt unwell and crawled under the sheets. He heard Sam asking his father if he was OK, and John had rebuffed him with a gruff confirmation. 

It was a few hours later, when John was snoring on the pull-out couch and Sammy was curled up with the sheets tangled obscurely around his ankles, that Dean’s body woke him with a driving need and he found silent release in the bathroom with Castiel’s name behind his teeth.

Now, he's back at the motel after walking home from school alone. Sam had asked him to wait so they could walk together, but Dean had taken off without him. He doesn't want the questions. Doesn't want Sam quizzing him about his neck - which he's managed to cover by turning up the collar of his leather jacket. He doesn't want to talk about any of it, or to think about what any of it means. He has another study session - study session, who is he kidding - this evening with Castiel and it's all he can think of. His mind is set one one track: alpha, alpha, alpha, and it had only been towards the end of the day when he had stopped feeling sick and sweaty. But now he feels sick and sweaty for an entirely different reason: he's nervous as hell. He's spent the entire day desperate to see Castiel, dying to be in his company and close to him, needing to scent him and taste his skin and feel his hands and look into his eyes… But what if the alpha doesn't feel the same? What if he's had some sort of wake-up call in the last twenty-something hours and wants nothing more to do with Dean? What if…

“Dean?”

He jumps a mile, schoolbag sliding off his shoulder to clunk loudly on the lino floor of the motel, the strap held uselessly in his loose fist. He had been so wrapped up in thoughts of Castiel that he hadn't noticed his father sitting on the far bed cleaning his gun. It's the one with the mother of pearl handle, the one Dean likes, and John is always meticulously careful with it. His father gestures for him to sit down next to him and he does, fighting nerves of a different kind now. John has been nothing but supportive, the doting albeit somewhat distant father he always wanted, but now that Dean is beginning to grow up, to grow into himself, he's anxious that his father might not like who he's becoming. He sits in silence, watching John polish the muzzle of the gun, waiting for the axe to fall. 

“She's special to me, this one,” John murmurs, and for a second Dean doesn't quite understand until John nudges the gun in his direction. “Always been here for me, by my side. A companion. Got me out of a few tight scrapes. And in return I've done my best to take care of her. Guns are funny things, Dean. They need a lot of care, a lot of attention. You've got to handle them right. Remember what I taught you?”

“Yes,” Dean watches his father’s hands move over the polished steel. He parrots familiar words back at his father. “That they're not toys, that they have to be respected, and that they aren't disposable.” 

“Right.” John shoots him an approving look then falls quiet for a while. “I want the best for you boys, you know that?”

“Of course,” he frowns, unsure of where this conversation is going. He should have known he hadn't heard the end of it after last night. Does John know? And if he does… what then?

John sighs, finishing up with the gun and wrapping it in a piece of leather before stowing it to one side. “You're going to your extra study thing tonight, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Should leave soon. Don't wanna be late.”

“I'll drive you. Come on.” John claps him on the shoulder and stands, waiting for Dean to follow him. When he doesn't, he frowns down at his son. “What?”

“I… I'll walk. I'm fine.” He doesn't move. He's pinned in place with a sudden, sickening fear. John knows, he must. He never offers to drive Dean anywhere… “Honestly, Dad, it's cool -”

“Dean, c’mon. Grab your books, let's go.”

And John walks out of the door without a backward glance, leaving Dean to trail behind him with his heart in his throat. He forgets about his scent blockers completely. 

They pull up outside Castiel’s and John leaves the engine idling, hands on the steering wheel and staring up at the house as though it's challenging him. There's a light on downstairs, and Dean is sure he can see Castiel moving around inside. He sneaks a glance at his father, and the deep line between his brows is disconcerting. He fidgets in his seat, wondering if he can get out and go into the house or if he's meant to wait for his father to say something, but John takes the decision from him. 

“Be careful, Dean. Just… be careful. That's all I'm gonna say.” John turns to him and the light casts his face into shadow, but his dad’s eyes look strangely soft. “Do you need picking up later?”

“N-no. I'll walk. Thanks for the ride, Dad,” Dean fumbles for the handle but John’s hand on his arm stays him for just a second. 

“If he hurts you, Dean, I'll kill him. You know that.”

“I do.” 

John goes to say something else then closes his mouth. Without a backward glance, heart racing in his throat, he climbs out of the car and slams the door, shouldering his satchel and heading up the steps to Castiel’s. Behind him, as he knocks on the door, he hears the Impala pull away into the night.    
  
•••   
  
Castiel’s mouth is on his the second the door closes. There's no pretense, no preamble, no stilted welcomes: it’s pure, unadulterated heat that leaves Dean gasping for air - and silently begging for more. He lets his head fall back against the wall as Castiel attacks his throat with fierce kisses, hands firmly on his hips with the alpha red glinting in his eyes, wondering how the hell he got so lucky. He'd been so worried that Castiel wouldn't want him any more, but the alpha seems overcome with need for him and it makes the omega inside him dance happily, wanting to bare his neck and submit to anything asked of him. And Dean has never been like this, has never even wanted to be. Until now. 

“Cas,” he gasps out, his hands coming up to link behind Castiel’s neck as their bodies press together. He can feel the hard line of the alpha’s erection against his hip and his scent… Dean’s mouth is practically watering. It's different to the last time, sweeter and tarter and more rich; then he realises. It isn't just Castiel’s scent. It's his own too: they're intertwined and complimenting each other and it's heady and intoxicating. He can't contain a moan of sheer delight and desire. It feels like Castiel wants to lap it up, licking deep into his mouth as his hands drop to Dean’s thighs before lifting him up. He wraps his legs instinctively around the alpha’s waist as he marvels at his strength. Dean isn't small for eighteen, by any means. He's tall, as tall as his teacher, and filling out with lean muscle. But Castiel lifts him as though he weighs nothing, carries him through to the living area and deposits him on the couch where he falls on top of him and blankets Dean’s body with his own. His school bag is discarded in the hallway, English textbooks spilling out of it, and neither of them are under any misguided impression that they'll get any work done this evening. 

Castiel’s mouth is busy attacking his neck and pushing his plaid shirt off his shoulders when Dean pushes gently at his chest with both hands. When the alpha doesn't stop, a dart of panic pulses through him, Dean chokes out, “Cas - stop,” and Castiel pulls back instantly, hands on Dean’s hips with a look of sudden concern crossing his handsome face. The red hint to his eyes dulls before it vanishes completely and a crease makes itself at home between his brows. He looks utterly wrecked and intoxicated by Dean, yet he pulls back a little further, putting some distance between them. All at once Dean is suddenly cold, sweat breaking out under his arms and on his chest beneath his t-shirt. 

“Dean, I'm sorry - I couldn't hold back. You're incredible and you smell…” Castiel runs a hand over his face, and Dean can see the internal battle going on as he lies on the couch and gazes up at the alpha. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have -”

He goes to get up completely and Dean only just manages to stay him with one hand around his wrist. 

“I didn't really mean stop.” He actually did, at the time. A small, nervous part of him wanted to be sure that the alpha  _ could _ stop and that things weren't going to happen against his will. “I just meant wait. We… we don't have to rush…” 

His body is screaming at him now, hands tightening on Castiel’s waist, wanting the warm weight of his body back and the heated, desperate kisses. The look Castiel gives him then does something to him. It's soft, sensual, almost caring and the alpha lowers himself back down and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth. 

“You're right. You're so right. I just couldn't wait to be close to you.” He runs a hand through Dean’s hair, following the movement of his fingers with his gaze. “How has your day been? I didn't see you at school.”

“I was busy. Kinda.”

“Kinda?” 

“Dunno. Just needed some space. Last night kinda threw me.”

“Really? Why?” Castiel looks genuinely surprised then a dash of concern crosses his face again. “When you were here last night, you _wanted_ …”

“Yes! Yes,” he hurries to calm his alpha -  _ the _ alpha, fuck - and rubs circles into the base of Castiel’s spine. “I guess I was just thinking too hard. I've wanted you for a while now,” he blushes and averts his eyes, focusing on some ugly-ass carriage clock on the mantel. “So you wanting me back was kinda… a shock. An awesome shock. But. Yeah.” 

He knows he's rambling, making no sense, and he can feel his cheeks heating up and turns his head towards the back of the couch in embarrassment but Castiel just smiles down then leans in to press a kiss to his jaw. 

“I felt the same, Dean. You have no idea how difficult it's been at school. Seeing you every day, running into you… All I wanted to do was drag you into the nearest classroom.” He runs a hand through Dean’s hair. “And you're so smart, too.” At this, Dean pulls a face and Castiel chastises him, “Don't do that. I know you try and hide it, for whatever reason, but you're intelligent, Dean. And I saw that in you the first moment you spoke up in my class.”

“So intelligent I need special tutoring, huh?” 

“You expect me to believe that your grades are a true reflection of your abilities?” Castiel nuzzles his neck, scenting him and sighing with pleasure. “Or were you just perhaps…” A kiss, a gentle nip. “Distracted…”

Heat is pooling again between Dean's thighs and he spreads them a little, wanting Castiel to settle between them, wanting to pick up where they left off. But his teacher pulls back with a mischievous little smirk on his lips. 

“I remember you saying you wanted to try out my hot tub one day…”

Dean’s breath definitely speeds up then. In his fantasy last night, a fantasy which had become XX-rated almost immediately, he and Castiel had been in that hot tub and Castiel had been between his legs. The air between them suddenly seems thicker, hotter, and their mingled scents take on a beautifully sweet tone that makes Dean crave more. 

“Yes,” he manages to choke out, the now-familiar feel or arousal coursing through his veins. “Yes, I want that. Let's do that.”

Castiel scents his neck once more, breathing deep, then gets off of Dean and holds out a hand to help him up. His arousal is visible, the hard line of his erect cock encased by tight denim, and his scent is sweet and enticing. He wraps an arm around Dean’s waist and pulls him in for a deep kiss, and the omega melts against the alpha. Castiel is warm and strong, and Dean’s instincts are screaming at him to stay, to mate, and it's terrifying and heady all at once. 

Castiel touches his bottom lip, then draws him by the hand towards the sliding glass doors, his other hand playing lightly with the hem of Dean’s t-shirt until they're outside. The chilly breeze is toying with Dean’s hair, and then Castiel is close again, pulling the clothing up and over his head and tossing it aside. With slightly trembling hands Dean does the same, yanking Castiel’s shirt off him, and for a moment he's captivated, staring. Castiel is solid muscle, firm biceps, and a flat stomach with a small scattering of freckles across it. His pecs are hard and his nipples rosy and peaked thanks to the coolness of the evening. 

Dean feels wildly inadequate immediately; he's not as defined or filled out as Castiel, and he has a softness to his belly and hips from too much cheap food and junk - but that inadequacy only lasts for the length of time between one breath and the next.

“You're beautiful, Dean,” Castiel whispers, dragging a fingertip down his sternum until it stops at the waist and of his jeans. “May I?”

And this is it, Dean knows it. There's nothing innocent about getting naked and getting into the hot tub with his unbelievably gorgeous alpha English teacher. If he does this, they'll do things that he's only ever dreamed about, and he already knows he's likely to fall even harder for the alpha. Their scents are intertwined more than they should be and while that probably should scare him it's having the opposite effect: he feels safe and secure, and as Castiel draws him closer and presses a kiss to his forehead he knows that if he said stop that everything would immediately. 

He should say stop. They should slow this down. They know next to nothing about each other beyond what they've learned in school and during their last faux-tutoring session. Castiel is older, in a position of power, and they shouldn't be doing this. They should be waiting for Dean’s graduation and doing this the responsible way. And for a moment, with his eyes cast over Castiel’s shoulder at the hot tub where the water is bubbling pleasantly and the steam is rising up in tendrils into the night air, he's so tempted to pull back. To do this right. To be responsible. To quell his inner omega and try to listen to his head instead of his body. 

But Castiel’s questioning fingers on his stomach draw his attention back fairly quickly, and when he looks up into those perfect blue eyes he knows he never really stood a chance at taking this slow. 

He's already lost. 

“Yeah, Cas.” He hears himself say, and his inner omega purrs in wild anticipation. “Yeah, you can…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evil smirk*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a while, but hopefully it will be worth it! And if it wasn't for the help of my awesome beta you'd be waiting a heck of a while longer, so kudos to her as always ♥

Castiel strips Dean slowly in between honey-sweet kisses and caresses that send sparks of electricity up his spine. Dean, for his part, cannot do much more than stand and allow it. He's too overcome with nervous excitement. Especially when Castiel takes his hand and draws him across the yard to the hot tub, gesturing for him to climb in and helping him until he's sitting down and gazing up at the alpha, standing tall and confident above him. 

“I'll be back in a minute,” he says, capturing Dean’s lips in one last heated kiss before heading back indoors. 

Dean tries to relax, tries to quell his nerves and enjoy the warm sensation of the jets massaging his flesh and the water lapping at his skin. He's hard already, his hole slick and throbbing from the very idea of what they might be about to do, and as he shifts restlessly one of the water jets caresses his taint just right and he can't contain a gasp, reaching down to cup himself through his now-soaked boxers. He should have taken them off but one fine strand of embarrassment had prevented him from doing so. He can't help himself: he runs a thumb down his shaft then back up, gently teasing the head as the sensation of the waterlogged fabric provides the most delicious friction. It's only when he hears a sound to his left that he realises his eyes have slipped closed and he opens them to see Castiel leaning on the edge of the hot tub with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand and a very predatory smirk upon his lips. 

“Starting without me, hmm?”

Dean blushes scarlet as Castiel sets down the bottle and glasses then climbs the few steps to the hot tub and gets in - very, very slowly. Dean’s eyes drop reflexively to the alpha’s crotch and his eyes widen in shock. Castiel is  _ hung _ and Dean’s mouth runs a little dry at the idea of what the alpha might be able to do to him with a cock like that. He hardens still further between his legs, clamping his thighs together a little tighter in nervous anticipation. 

“So,” Castiel has settled himself in the water and is holding a glass of wine out to Dean. “Tell me about yourself, Dean.”

“I…” Dean’s thrown. He was expecting the alpha to pounce on him, but then he realises this is Castiel attempting to take things a little slower just as he’d suggested. He sips the wine (it tastes like shit but all wine tastes like shit to him) and shrugs a little. He’s too distracted and too turned on to take this all seriously, and with Castiel looking all wet and sexy and incredible so close to him how is he supposed to concentrate? Cas is all firm chest and thick thighs, dark hair curling gently with the heat of the water, and Dean suddenly has to fight the desire to lean over and lick his neck. 

“Not much to tell. Live with my dad and my brother, go to school, do my homework. The usual stuff.”

“Dean, I already know all that about you.” Castiel is watching him closely and the deep blue gaze is all kinds of intimidating. “Tell me something I don’t know. That only I’ll know.”

Cas doesn’t really give him the chance to answer. He puts his glass down and reaches out to Dean, his hand wet from being submerged and Dean wants to lick the droplets from his fingers. He reaches out to take it then pauses - taking a breath to steal his nerves he pushes his boxer shorts down, shimmying out of them in his seated position. Then, with Castiel watching his every move, tosses them away where they land on the grass with a wet slap. 

“You’re the only one who’s seen me like this,” Dean says quietly.

Then he takes Cas’ hand and allows himself to be pulled closer and closer until they’re touching, until Dean is straddling Castiel’s lap and oh God - this is really happening. Warm hands come to his hips and slide around his waist, pulling him in close until his cock brushes against the alpha’s and he can’t stifle a gasp of shocked excitement. 

“Are you a virgin, Dean?” Castiel murmurs against his neck, fingers trailing tantalisingly down his spine, and Dean shivers, not knowing how to respond. He doesn't want to disappoint his alpha - and he doesn't know which answer is the correct one. So he's forced to go with the truth. 

“Y-Yes, I - I've never - uh, I mean, I -”

“Dean.” Castiel moves to kiss him deeply and Dean whines into his mouth. “I want you no matter what.” A slightly mischievous, feral smirk spreads across his face and his eyes glow red for a second. “I just need to know how gentle I have to be with you.”

Dean can't manage more than an incoherent whimper at that, his head falling forward to rest against Castiel’s, and the hand around his waist begins to slide lower, caressing his hip beneath the water. His whole body practically vibrates with arousal and need and he's  _ so  _ slick between his cheeks. When Castiel’s fingers finally, finally find his entrance they both let out breathy, lust-fuelled moans, and Dean arches his hips as Cas strokes a thumb gently over his hole. He's wet and needy for his alpha, but he's tight and a fleeting fear of ‘how is this going to work’ dances through him. But then Castiel gently presses the tip of his thumb into Dean and arousal so intense takes over that it punches a whine from his throat. 

He can’t stop thinking about Castiel’s hard length waiting for him between his legs. He wants to know every inch of his alpha intimately - how he smells, what he tastes like, how it will feel to have him thick and heavy inside of his mouth.

“Wanna suck you,” Dean whispers, hot and breathy against Castiel’s neck. The alpha moans at the idea, his hands clawing at Dean’s back so hard he’s sure to leave marks that will show the next morning. Against his ass, he can feel Castiel’s cock thicken impossibly more. 

“Later,” Castiel promises. He moves to capture his mouth and they're kissing again, tongues meeting hot and wet and messy as they battle for dominance - omega refusing to submit entirely to alpha. “Next time. Want to feel you, Dean. Want you beneath me.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes into his alpha’s mouth. “Yeah, take me Cas. Want you to fuck me, alpha. Want it to be you. Want you to be my first.”

Castiel growls at this before he pulls him close and attacks his mouth with heated kisses. They kiss like this for a long time, grinding against each other as the heat between them intensifies - right until Dean is lifted up, spun around, and bent over the edge of the hot tub. He can’t contain a gasp of shock as Cas’ hand slides down his spine and between his ass cheeks to caress his slick hole.

“Mine,” the alpha growls, and Dean chances a look over his shoulder. What he sees makes him swallow hard just as his cock leaps in excitement. Castiel’s eyes are dark, his irises lined with red, and the expression on his face is predatory and possessive. His hand between Dean’s legs feels incredible, especially as his thumb starts to circle his entrance. Dean whines as he feels himself relax instinctually, feeling more slick leak out and dribble down onto his balls.

“You’re so beautiful, omega,” Cas says, his voice sounding rough but reverent. His thumb continues to feel its way around his hole, gently beginning to apply pressure and turning Dean into a writhing mess.

“Please, Cas.” He feels like his entire body is coiled tight as a wire. “Need you.”

“Oh Dean,” Castiel sighs. “You will tell me if there’s any pain, or if you want to stop, won’t you?” Dean nods his head enthusiastically, thinking silently that he wouldn’t stop right now if the house caught on fire. So smoothly he doesn’t even notice until it’s already done, Cas switches his thumb for a finger, and a single digit slides into his slick center easily. Dean groans with pleasure, already overwhelmed by how good - how  _ right _ \- it feels to have a part of his alpha inside of him. 

“Oh, Dean. Sweet, sweet, Dean,” Castiel sighs again. 

“C-Cas.” Dean stutters as the alpha starts fingering him in earnest, slowly at first, but quickly picking up the pace as they both feel how easily he opens up. It’s not long at all before Cas adds a second finger, beginning to add to the feeling of being full he’s so desperately craving. 

“How does that feel Dean?” Castiel asks him gently.

“So good, alpha.” He moans happily when he feels Cas’ mouth hot on his shoulder blade. He can barely concentrate through his pleasure. Cas’ lips move closer and closer to his neck - to where a mating bite would go - as his fingers keep thrusting in and out of him, and he’s sure his cock is harder right now than it’s ever been in his life. 

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” 

His heart soars at the endearment, and before he can think better of it, he wiggles his ass in a silent request for more. He can hear the catch in Cas’ breathing as he pulls out and adds his third finger, Dean’s ample slick easing the way.

“My sweet omega.” Dean can feel his inner omea swoon at the purr in the alpha’s voice. He wants to be good for Cas, and his praise feels  _ almost _ as good as his fingers. They begin to spread and scissor, stretching his willing hole one thrust at a time. The first time Cas brushes against his prostate he nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“Ah! Fuck!” His fingers go white on the edge of the hot tub as he cants his ass backwards seeking more stimulation on his sweet spot. 

Cas’ provides it for him as his mouth finally has finds his neck, and he shudders with a mixture of anticipation and fear when the alpha nuzzles into his skin. “You smell so sweet, omega. So perfect. I have never smelled anything so perfect.” The flood of slick those words produces would be embarrassing if Cas didn’t just moan like that behind him.

“More. Please, alpha. More.” He’s never heard himself beg this way - didn’t even know he had it in him - but all he can think about is how good his fingers feel and how badly he still wants more. The second Cas pulls his fingers out of him, Dean whines unhappily, missing the feeling of being full more than he can possibly express in his state of arousal. 

“Shhh.” Cas’ hands sweep up and down his back in a soothing gesture, only managing to calm him slightly. “Are you sure you want to do this, Dean?”

“Yes.” Dean’s voice is steady with confidence. “I want you, alpha. Want you to be my first.” He repeats his earlier words, hoping they have the same effect on him they did before.

He’s rewarded with a quiet growl from the alpha. “I’m completely clean,” Cas says suddenly. “It’s been - well - a very long time since I was with anybody in this way, and I’ve been tested. I can use a condom if you’d prefer, but -”

“No.” Dean’s sure about this. He wants nothing between himself and Cas when they do this, and he trusts him completely. “No condom. I want - I only want you.”

He turns his head to the side to look at Cas and happily accepts the awkwardly positioned kiss Cas plants on his lips. The next thing he knows, the huge, rock hard shaft of the alpha is pressed against his waiting entrance. His shoulders are heaving, his body is tense with anticipation, and when Cas hesitates again Dean hears himself whisper, “Do it.”

And he does.

Cas slips into him as easily as either of them could have hoped, completely painlessly, and ten times better than he imagined.

_ This is it _ , he thinks wildly, still panting hard and concentrating on every little reaction of his body as it clenches around Castiel’s impressive length. _ I’m not a virgin anymore, and I’m so glad it’s him… _

“Are you alright, little omega?” Cas murmurs, stroking the back of Dean’s neck with one hand and his lower back with the other. He’s so lost in pleasure that he doesn’t think to answer. “Dean, does this feel OK?”

“Feels fucking amazing, Cas,” Dean manages to choke out, his throat tight and his voice a little lower than usual. Cas’ cock twitches inside him, and he can feel every muscle in the alpha’s body coiled tight as he tries not to thrust. The level of care and concern he’s being shown is overwhelming, and he thinks again about how glad he is that he waited for Cas. But he’s done waiting now. He grips the edge of the hot tub and presses his hips back experimentally.  _ Fuck _ , that feels good. He can feel every inch of Castiel’s length shifting inside him and his own cock pulses in excitement between his thighs. 

“Dean, I can’t… I need to…” As though he can’t help himself, Castiel pulls his hips back then thrusts in shallowly and Dean gasps then moans helplessly as pleasure cascades through him all the way to his toes as the tip of the alpha’s cock grazes his prostate. 

“Oh, God,” he chokes out. “Do that again.”

Castiel obliges, holding onto both his hips now and pulling his hips back only to thrust in deeply this time, and Dean cries out in shocked pleasure. Castiel does it again, then again, and then they’re actually doing it - having sex - and Dean can’t contain the muffled sounds of pleasure that make it past his lips. Once the alpha has ascertained that Dean isn’t in any discomfort he adjusts his grip then begins to pull him back onto his cock with each perfectly aimed thrust, hitting his prostate and making Dean cry out over and over again.

It seems like it goes on forever and not long enough at the same time. Dean loses himself in ecstasy, in the heat coiling in his groin and spreading through his entire body making it feel as though he’s on fire. Hie toes curl, and his fingers grip the edge of the hot tub so tightly now he feels like he might shatter apart if he lets go. The water sloshes around him from the intensity of Cas’ thrusts, and with every inward press of Cas’ long, thick shaft Dean groans as his prostate is massaged.Sooner than he would like, he’s riding the edge of his orgasm and it seems as though Castiel begins to realise, but instead of slowing it all down, he thrusts harder still. He kisses the back of Dean’s neck and fucks him deeper, harder, until the omega is seeing stars and he can’t possibly hold back any longer. 

“Cas, I’m going to… I’m gonna come, I can’t… ah!”    


Dean gasps then groans low in his throat, his forehead dropping to rest on his forearms as his orgasm crashes down upon him. Waves of intense pleasure cascade over him as he comes untouched. His cock pulses between his legs as he clenches down around Cas’ length. The alpha growls, his teeth scraping Dean’s neck right where a mating bite would go and another wave of ecstasy hits him and he whines as he bares his neck. He arches back to take Cas as deep as he can as another pulse of cum spills from him as Castiel wraps his big hand around his cock, stroking him gently as he guides him through his orgasm. 

Dean is panting as he begins to come down. His chest and shoulders heave as Cas continues to thrust inside of him as deep as he can without pressing his knot in. Dean’s hit with a sharp and sudden longing for the alpha’s knot, but he’s distracted with pleasure when Cas’cock grazes his prostate over and over and his body is wracked with miniature climaxes.    


“Dean,” Cas moans against his skin. He thrusts a little harder, pressing the omega against the edge of the hot tub as Dean gasps and writhes, pinned beneath his alpha and in his own personal heaven. “God, Dean. You’re perfect. You’re…”    


Castiel’s fingers dig into his hips almost painfully as he thrusts in once more deeply, then pulls out with a low cry of pleasure. Seconds later Dean feels spurts of hot come splash across his lower back. He arches his spine, pushing his ass towards the alpha to encourage him, and the growl he receives in return is positively delicious. Cas’ orgasm seems to go on forever as he moves back in to grind against Dean’s ass. His lips trail over his neck, and Dean bares his neck again impulsively as Cas comes again and again. The alpha is moaning so loudly now that concern about the neighbors overhearing crosses Dean’s mind before it’s chased away by the mental image of his alpha coming all over him after fucking him doggystyle. He almost comes again, his softening cock twitching valiantly in interest, before his inner omega purrs with satisfaction when the heavy weight of his alpha collapses against him.    
  
•••   
  
Lying in bed with Castiel, naked and kissing lazily while on the edge of sleep is Dean’s new favorite thing. The alpha is on his back, Dean lies on top of him between his legs, and their mouths are exploring each other leisurely. The thick aroma of sex hangs between them, Dean is still slick between his ass cheeks, and Castiel’s skin is tacky with sweat, but they can't bring themselves to part long enough to get up and shower. Castiel’s hands are warm where they stroke up and down his back and run through his hair. And God, it feels so nice. So nice just to be touched. Dean is such a tactile person, yet he hides that away under his layer of macho, bravado confidence. If only his friends could see him now, all snuggled up to a strong, muscular alpha who is cradling him as though he's something precious and special…

“You're thinking too hard,” Castiel murmurs, kissing the top of his head and massaging his shoulder with firm fingers. “Anything I need to know about?”

“Nah, Cas. Just enjoying this.” He allows himself to cuddle just a little closer, into the vee of Castiel’s pelvis, and feels the alpha's spent cock twitch just a little against his stomach. He could lie here forever; sweaty and exhausted and sated, muscles aching pleasantly and feeling safe with his alpha. 

_ His alpha. _ Shit, that line of thought is dangerous. Castiel isn't his. He has no idea what this is, this thing between them, but he can't afford to get ahead of himself. For all he knows, Cas just sees him as an easy, willing omega to fuck and use like a toy. His heart, however, knows differently. 

“Dean,” Castiel begins, running gentle fingers through his hair, but he's rudely interrupted by a sound from outside that makes them both freeze in surprise. Then, very distinctly, the doorbell rings and Castiel sits bolt upright, dislodging Dean who falls sideways into the fluffy comforter. 

“It's my Dad,” Dean gasps, panicked. “Oh god, what if -”

“Why would it be your father?” Castiel is pulling on soft jeans and reaching for a sweater with a confused frown. His hair is standing on end and his lips are still swollen from Dean’s desperate kisses. 

“He drove me here. He knows where you live and I think he  _ knows _ ! Cas, what do I -”

“Dean.” There's something in the alpha’s voice that instantly calms his inner omega as he pulls back the curtain enough to take a look outside. “It isn't your father. It's my brother, Jimmy.”

•••

  
Castiel drops the curtain and gives Dean an appraising look: naked and wrapped in the sheets, reeking of sex and concern. His short hair is a mess, his eyes still hold a glint of the omega gold that had been so prominent while they were having sex, and his lips are kiss-swollen and full. He looks absolutely edible and Castiel’s mouth waters at the sight of him, his heart feeling like it's swelling two sizes within his chest. He wants nothing more to strip off his clothes and climb back into bed with the omega but he has to deal with the presented situation instead. 

“I'll get rid of him, don't worry.” He snakes an arm around Dean’s waist and draws him close, kissing his neck and scenting him before he goes. “You wait here. I won't be long.”

“But -”

“Wait here, Dean. Please.”

Downstairs he yanks the front door open with a little more force than necessary, causing the glass to rattle in the frame, and pins his brother with a glare that Jimmy responds to with a sardonic eyebrow raise. 

Then his blue eyes widen as he scents the air.    


“You reek,” he comments curiously.   


“Thank you very much. What do you want?”   


“So welcoming, Castiel. I'm really glad I called.” Ignoring his twin’s spluttered protests, Jimmy elbows his way past Castiel and into the house, dropping a pile of books on the hallway table and stretching, his shoulders popping in response.    


“Apologies. To what do I owe the pleasure?”   


“You left these in your classroom and I thought you'd need them. I also thought we could get some dinner. Unless…”   


Jimmy, dressed in jeans and a sweater with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, arches an eyebrow and lifts his head a little, scenting the air. He then pushes his way past Castiel, walking further into the house without another word as he heads for the stairs. With worry immediately taking root in his stomach, Castiel follows and tries to catch his brother’s arm and pull him back.    


“Jimmy, listen. Whatever you think you can smell -” He hastens to his brother’s side just as Jimmy reaches his bedroom. “Jimmy, don't -”   


But his twin has pushed open the door, and with an incredulous look thrown in Castiel’s direction, turns his attention to the bedroom. Dean is sitting in the middle of the bed, tan skin looking even more golden against the white sheets, hugging the blankets to him with wide eyes. At the sight of the familiar beta he instinctively inclines his head in greeting, then seems to catch himself and glares instead.    


“Can I help you?”   


Castiel has to stifle a snort and makes a muffled snuffling sound instead, drawing his twin’s disapproving glare. Only Dean could manage to sound so indignant when sitting naked in bed faced with a virtual stranger of a higher designation than himself. Jimmy ignores him in favor of glaring at his twin.    


“Castiel. Really? We talked about this.”   


“Let's do this downstairs.” Castiel grips Jimmy’s arm and hauls him away from the door, cheeks slightly pink at the knowledge of what his twin must be smelling. The air in the bedroom is thick with the unmistakable aroma of sex, of his and Dean’s scents intertwining to form something sweet and heady, and he finds he doesn't want his brother knowing all the intimate details of what he and Dean have done together. Back in the safety of the hallway, he places his hands on his hips and fixes Jimmy with a firm stare as his younger twin takes in the mess around him: Dean’s clothes in a pile by the sliding doors, towels thrown across the sofa, and outside, the hot tub illuminated by the lights with the bottle of wine and half-empty glasses standing on the table, proudly incriminating. It's painfully obvious what they've been doing.    


“Don't say it. I know you warned me not to. But you don't understand; Dean and I… Dean, we…” he falters and trails off, unsure how to continue. He and Dean what, exactly? They aren't mated, they aren't in love… are they?   


“Castiel, he's a student!” Jimmy hisses, and suddenly the expression on his face is so serious that it sobers Castiel completely. “You could lose your job!”   


“That won't happen, Jimmy. He's eighteen, he's -”   


“And you're in a position of authority! I don't know what the hell you think you're playing at.”   


“Well, I'm certainly not going to be telling anyone about us in a hurry. And neither is he, I assume. Are you?” Castiel fixes Jimmy with a probing look and his twin sighs, rolling his eyes.    


“Of course not. But -” Jimmy cuts himself off, his gaze going to the stairs where Dean has appeared, wrapped in a sheet and looking no less sex-drenched than when Castiel had left him to answer the door. Immediately his alpha rears up, wanting to protect his omega from this beta, hide him away and keep his modesty safe from this  _ intruder _ \- and then those thoughts make him pause in alarm. 

Jimmy is his twin,  _ his blood _ , and the closest person to him in his life. Yet the alpha part of him would very willingly pin Jimmy to the ground if he so much as looks at Dean the wrong way right now. He's heard all the stories of how alphas end up prioritising their mates over their siblings and parents, but hadn't realised the true implications of it until now. He would hurt Jimmy for Dean.    


“If you don't say anything, and I don't say anything, and Cas doesn't say anything, then we don't have a problem here.” The omega says firmly, jaw lifted and shoulders set. “Unless you're planning on creating one.”   


“No.” Jimmy responds acidly. “But you're still a child for God’s sake, and Castiel should know better than to let a pretty face mess around with…”   


But he trails off, both he and Dean looking to Castiel in surprise as a low growl emanates from the alpha’s throat. Jimmy, in particular, has the grace to look cowed.    


“Don't talk about him that way,” Castiel snaps. If he had a tail, like the true wolves of the forest that surrounds their small town, it would be whipping back and forth in a warning to his kin that he was about to overstep a line. “He knows what he's doing, and so do I. You need to back off, Jimmy. In fact, you need to leave.”   


“Castiel -”   


“Leave!” That is dangerously close to a snarl and Jimmy backs away, hands raised in supplication, eyes dropping as he moves towards the door. Castiel has moved to the bottom of the stairs to block Dean from view - and as Jimmy fumbles behind him for the doorknob, not wanting to turn his back on his brother when he's acting this predatory - he sees Castiel turn, wrap an arm around Dean’s waist and pull him into a deeply possessive kiss the the omega positively melts into.   


When they break apart, Jimmy is gone.    
  
•••   
  
Once they’re back in bed and the two of them have worked at calming each other down, Castiel breaks the comfortable silence between them. “Stay,” Castiel whispers into Dean’s hair, stroking his forehead then dipping down to kiss him once more. “I want you with me tonight.”   


“My dad…” Dean kisses back deliciously, sweet and obedient with just a hint of defiance - he loves Castiel’s strength but a part of him can't submit to him completely. He's strong in his own way, with a firm will and a fiery spirit, and he can't allow himself to give his entirety over to the alpha. But the best part is, he's sure Castiel doesn't want him to.    


“Screw your dad,” Castiel growls in his ear. Dean’s cock, soft against his thigh, gives a valiant twitch at just how possessive he sounds. “You're mine, Dean. You should stay with me tonight.”   


“OK.” On second thought, perhaps he's not quite as strong and independent as he would like to think when it comes to Castiel… “OK. I'll stay.”   


He swipes for his phone, cursing silently at the fact that he actually has to disentangle from his alpha to reach it.  _ Staying at a friend’s _ , he types out. Behind him, Castiel is settling into bed and curling up against his back, trailing warm fingers down his spine.  _ Be home after school tomorrow.  _ _   
_

He half expects his father to reply and either question him or tell him he's to come home. Which, honestly, would be unbearable seeing as the idea of leaving Castiel right now sends a bolt of anxiety through him. But when his phone pings again he breathes a sigh of relief.    


_ OK. Stay safe.  _ _   
_

Dean snaps his phone closed and reaches over to put it on the nightstand as Castiel starts to kiss his neck and run a gentle hand down his side.    


“I'll keep you safe, Dean,” he murmurs into the omega’s hair Dean sighs and relaxes back into his arms, feeling the alpha’s hand trail lower, down his thigh then behind to caress the firm globes of his ass. He can feel himself getting slick again already and a shuddering sigh spills from him as Castiel’s fingers find their mark. “I'll always keep you safe.”


	7. Chapter 7

Dean and Castiel wake in the middle of the night and have slow, sensual sex again. Dean climbs on top this time, straddling his alpha with Castiel’s fingers digging deliciously into his hips. He rides Cas languidly, leaning back to brace himself on the alpha’s thick thighs for leverage, and allowing his head to tip back as he nears orgasm. His spine arches and Castiel runs a hand down his body from throat to groin, cupping him as Dean comes helplessly. 

Then again at dawn, Dean sleepily presses his ass back against the alpha curled up behind him. Cas reaches down between them to guide his cock to Dean’s wet, aching hole and pushes in slowly, making both of them moan at the onslaught of pleasure. Castiel’s arm wraps around Dean’s waist as they lie on their sides with their bodies joined, hips rocking in an agonisingly slow rhythm as the sun comes up outside. 

But Castiel doesn't knot him even once, and Dean finds himself near tears as he comes down from his third climax of the night and Castiel gasps in his ear as he spurts wet and thick and hot all over Dean’s balls and taint. Why won't the alpha take him properly and tie them together? He finds himself wanting everything - wanting Castiel’s knot and his bite. As he falls asleep with tears on his lashes that he's sure Castiel can't see, he hears the alpha whisper to him that he's beautiful, that he's incredible. A warmth he's never felt before spreads through his whole body to cocoon him, and their combined scents lull him into dreamland.    
  
•••   
  
Dean wakes slowly to the sound of birds twittering through the open window. He snuggles further down into the fluffy duvet, sighing as he comes to and a gentle breeze ghosts over his skin as he tries to remember why he feels so incredibly relaxed. Then, as gentle fingers comb his hair back from his face and his body registers a glorious ache in his hips and thighs, it all comes back to him. 

Castiel. 

They slept together. 

Not once, not twice, but three times and Dean feels himself blush at the memory of how wanton he was as he rode Cas in the dead of night. They hadn't even talked about it. He woke the older man with sweet, shy kisses and the alpha had responded by licking languidly into his mouth and pulling him in close by his hips, then Dean had pressed Cas onto his back and climbed on top of him. And it had been  _ amazing. _ For the first time in his life, Dean had loved every second of being an omega, and it was all because of Castiel. 

The sheets rustle and he feels Cas lean down to him, feels his breath warm on his cheek before the alpha nuzzles him and kisses him good morning. 

“Dean, wake up.” Castiel is whispering, quiet and languid, and Dean cracks an eye open to see an expanse of tanned skin and a shock of dark hair above sparkling blue eyes. Castiel lies naked beside him, on top of the sheets, and he's gazing at Dean as though he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life. “I miss you.”

“I'm right here,” Dean smiles. He stretches indulgently, not missing the slight gleam to the alpha’s eyes as he follows the movement of Dean’s muscles. 

“I know. But I missed you anyway.” Castiel leans down and kisses him, and Dean indulges in enjoyment for a while, inhaling the incredible scent of his alpha. 

“What time is it?”

“Still early,” Castiel runs gentle fingers through his hair and Dean pushes into the touch like a cat. “But I thought we could shower and have breakfast together. As beautiful as you look when you're asleep -” Dean cringes internally, knowing he's far from beautiful but still slightly proud that his alpha thinks that. “- I wanted to spend some time with you before school.”

School. Ugh. In the whirlwind of last night, Dean had forgotten all about school. The mere idea of getting up and facing all his fellow students in class makes him shrink away under the duvet with a low grumble. Castiel laughs, leans in to kiss and simultaneously tickle Dean - who does not let out a very shrill shriek, thank you very much - and then rips the covers away unceremoniously. 

“C’mon, little omega. I'll make it worth your while.” He throws a smirk at Dean and extends a hand, which is taken grudgingly. 

“Nothin’ little about it,” Dean grouches, allowing himself to be led stark naked through the house to the bathroom.

Castiel reaches in and turns on the shower, stepping under the spray while it’s still probably freezing cold, and Dean turns away to use the bathroom. He blushes a little at doing it with Castiel in the room, but his mind chastises him for his embarrassment and reminds him that Castiel is his alpha and wants him no matter what. And damn, that’s a scary thought and not something they’ve even discussed, but Dean instantly feels an ache of want in his chest. He wants to be Castiel’s omega, wants to bond with him. And if Cas will have him, he wants to mate him. God, he wants it so badly.

He finishes up, then sits down on the lavatory. He’s still pink-cheeked as he watches Castiel’s shadow from behind the shower curtain, admiring his thick thighs and the muscles in his biceps as he showers. It takes him a while before he’s relaxed enough to go, and it feels incredibly strange when he does, his anal muscles still relaxed and slick from all their fucking during the night. He’s still wearing an embarrassed blush when he tugs back the shower curtain and, timidly, reaches for Cas, hoping he won’t be pushed away. Happily, it’s quite the opposite. 

Castiel tugs him close, wraps his arms around him, and kisses him deeply, almost making Dean swoon as a rush of hormones overwhelm him. Castiel smells incredible, the honey notes of his scent seem to have sweetened and Dean can almost smell his own scent wound around the deep aroma of fine wine and mild green tea. It crosses his mind that they may have involuntarily scent bonded overnight, and he should freak out at that, but then Castiel is kissing his neck and all thought flies out of the window.

They shower slowly and it’s deliciously intimate. Castiel seems to have made it some kind of personal mission to drench Dean in attention and adoration, kissing and mouthing at every exposed expanse of skin he can and caressing him gently whilst doing so. It isn’t long before pleasure is coiling between Dean’s thighs and Castiel’s erection is pressing into his stomach.

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas murmurs into his mouth, dipping his tongue in and lapping at his omega as though he’s never tasted anything so good. It’s all Dean can do to hold on and let himself be kissed.

“You,” he gasps when he’s capable of speech. Specifics, however, evade him. “I just want you.”

He's exhausted, no word of a lie. He’s tired out by their nighttime antics, yet his body is screaming for more and desperate for the touch of his alpha. He can feel slick starting to drip down his thighs and his face flushes again; he's never been this easily turned on, ever. And yet something inside him is aching, heating for Castiel’s touch and wanting to be wrapped in the arms of the strong alpha and to just stay there for days. The skin on his neck tingles when Castiel drops his lips to it and he whines desperately as a low pang of yearning hits him deep in the gut; he wants a mating bite. He wants to be Cas’ mate. 

But before that feeling can overwhelm him, Castiel has spun him around to face the wall and is dipping two fingers down to caress his hole, pushing in slowly and going deeper, deeper, until Dean jerks and yelps as his prostate is massaged. 

It doesn't take long to get him ready. Then Castiel is pushing into him - his entire length in one slow, delicious thrust - and Dean is pinned to the wall as his hands scrabble for purchase on the tiles. He waits, panting and impatient, for the alpha to move but Cas doesn't. He crowds Dean close, kissing his neck and lapping that perfect spot on his neck over and over until the omega is writhing on the thick alpha cock. Castiel’s hand drops to his balls, the other rubbing circles into his lower back as Dean whines and tries to press back. The sensations are overwhelming. Cas is filling him up so well and stretching him so wide, and the sparks from where his palm cradles his balls are shooting up and down his spine, causing a miniature lightning storm of pleasure. 

And he realises with a sudden rush that this is Castiel’s plan: hold him in place, pinned to the wall and impaled on his cock, and make him come using just his hands. He groans, tipping his head back onto Cas’ shoulder and feels himself pressed a little harder into the wall as Castiel cradles his balls in his hand and kisses his cheek.

“Move, Cas. I, uh,  _ fuck, _ please. Fuck me.”

“No, Dean. Not just yet.” 

He can feel Castiel smirking against his cheek and a low growl of want courses through him and out of his parted lips. 

“So beautiful, Dean. My perfect omega. You smell so good.” Cas takes his lips in a deep kiss, licking into his mouth and Dean’s hand comes up to curl into the alpha’s hair, barely holding in a whimper. Castiel feels huge inside him, every inch of his length stretching and filling Dean, and he tries to shift his hips to get Cas to goddamn move but the alpha just smirks, growls a little, and uses his own hips to pin Dean further in place. God, it’s maddening and heady and frustrating and  _ incredible _ , just being held here by the sheer strength of his alpha. And although Dean desperately wants to maintain some semblance of control over the situation, his inner omega is purring and enticing him to just give himself over to it. Let Cas be in charge. Let it happen. 

Castiel rolls his balls in his hand so perfectly, caressing and squeezing just right. Dean’s cock is swollen and dripping a constant stream of precome as he arches and writhes trying to chase the pleasure, all the while unable to escape the delicious, incredible sensation of his alpha’s cock filling him up. He can feel Castiel’s knot against his sensitive rim, tries to push back against it but is held in a firm grip. Even the thought of being knotted, although he already knows it will be denied to him, makes him groan and pushes him closer to the edge. 

“Can feel you getting tight, omega,” Castiel whispers into his ear, deep and low and rough. “You're getting so close.”

Dean can't even speak to agree; his head is tipped back onto Cas’ shoulder, hands planted on the tiles with his fingertips and knuckles pure white, and Castiel’s skilled hand has him on the edge. He can feel his body tightening, feel every muscle clenching tight, and Castiel feels even bigger inside him as his hole spasms around his thick length. 

“Fuck… Cas, alpha, I'm… I'm…”

“Come for me, my beautiful omega.” Castiel growls his words into his ear and that's it for Dean. Pleasure surges through him in an intense breaking wave and he cries out helplessly as he comes. His breathing is wrecked and ragged as his body clenches hard around his alpha’s cock, and he spurts his release in hot, sticky streams all over the tiles in front of him. Body quaking, he reaches back for Cas and clings for dear life as Castiel grips his hips and thrusts hard a handful of times, before coming with a groan inside him. He completely forgets about being denied his knot again when he bites him on the back of his neck almost hard enough to bruise. It's so close to a mating bite that the surge of pleasure so intense it causes Dean to whimper as a second orgasm wracks him and his legs give way, feet slipping dangerously on the tiles. 

“I've got you, Dean,” Castiel murmurs to him, embracing him warmly from behind and kissing the spot where his teeth had been. “I've got you.”

The rest of their shower goes by in a haze, Castiel cleaning Dean up and wiping the mess of cum and slick from between his legs before guiding him back through into the bedroom wrapped in a fluffy waffle towel. They collapse on the bed together and make out slowly as Dean’s heart rate returns to normal. 

“We should get ready,” Castiel says as he runs a hand through Dean’s hair. “We’ll both be late for school.”

He gives a wolfish grin in response. “We should skip it. Study all day instead…”

“As much as I'd love to spend the entire day here with you, I don't think that's the best use of our time. I don't want to negatively impact your education any more than I already have.” Castiel stands, holds out a hand to Dean and pulls him to his feet. “Get dressed, my sweet omega. I'll make us some breakfast, you must be starving.”

“I'm fine,” he attempts to protest, but his stomach betrays him by growling loudly at the promise of food and Castiel laughs. 

The alpha pulls on a pair of snug boxer-briefs and some grey jeans, then vanishes from the room shirtless and Dean collapses back onto the bed with a groan. 

Fuck. He's so fucked. He doesn't know what he was thinking before, about this thing between them, but if it ever crossed his mind for a second that it was just a quick fuck borne of lust then God, how wrong he was. He sniffs himself tentatively, anxiety and a thrill of excitement warring inside him. He smells different. Like himself, but also like Castiel and he wonders if the alpha has noticed the change too. And now that Castiel has left be room he almost aching to be back with him, face buried in his alpha’s neck and inhaling his honey-sweet scent. Is this a scent bond? He's read about them, and if it is then they're all kinds of fucked. It's halfway to mated. He's only eighteen, he can't be mated yet, or at least that's what the logical side of his brain is telling him. 

The emotional side is telling it to shut the fuck up because Castiel is all he wants and all he will  _ ever _ want. 

Downstairs, he feels instantly better at the sight of the alpha. Castiel is standing at the stove with his back to Dean, and the aroma of coffee and bacon makes the omega’s mouth water almost as much as the sight of his alpha’s thick biceps and strong back does. He opens his mouth to thank Castiel for cooking, but his brain has a different question in mind. 

“Why didn't you knot me?” 

It comes out in a rush, surprising Dean himself. He hadn't realised he'd been thinking about it so much, but evidently he was wrong. Castiel turns slowly, a frown on his face which instantly clears when he sees the expression on Dean’s face. It's likely somewhere between fearful and hurt, if the painful pang in Dean’s chest is anything to go by. He tries to school his features into something more neutral but the damage is done, and Castiel is crossing the kitchen to take him in his arms. 

“Dean. My omega. Please know I want nothing more than that. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to hold back last night? And this morning? But…” Castiel’s voice trails off and Dean steels himself. 

“But what?” It's a struggle to keep his voice even. “Am I not… Am I not right for you? You want someone older? Someone…”  _ Someone better… _

“No.” The conviction in Castiel’s voice is unmistakable and Dean can barely suppress a shiver at the authority in his voice. “You're all I want, Dean. I'm afraid if I knot you then I'll end up… taking it too far. And we only just found each other. I want to take it slow, do you understand? I don't want you to feel rushed into anything.” Castiel’s lips find his and the passion with which he kisses Dean leaves no room for argument. “Don't worry, please, little omega. I will. In time.”

As they settle side-by-side to breakfast, holding hands and stealing kisses every few minutes, Dean can't help thinking that time can't come soon enough.    
  
•••   
  
School sucks. Charlie is off on some geology trip, the little nerd that she is, and Dean is reduced to hanging out with Ash and Benny, neither of whom seem to notice the change in him. He had doused himself in Castiel’s neutralising scent blockers before they left the house, yet he's certain if Charlie were here she would be able to tell. 

He's fairly certain they've scent bonded. His own scent smells sweeter and more alluring to his own nose, and with every breath he can practically taste Castiel on his tongue. When they had parted, Castiel dropping Dean off around the corner from the school to prevent any arising suspicions, their kiss had been nothing short of perfect. Chaste, sweet, slow, and Castiel had held him close with one hand to the back of his neck as they gently made out in the front seat of Castiel’s crappy Prius. When they had pulled apart, Dean knew his eyes were glowing just a little more gold and Castiel’s pupils were so dilated the blue was barely visible. But the worst part was when Dean was standing on the sidewalk, watching the car drive away, and his body suddenly decided to mourn the loss of contact with his alpha. They'd spent all night solidifying their scent bond and to suddenly be pulled apart was sickening. 

In his pre-calc class, Dean’s throat feels desert dry. In phys ed his muscles refuse to comply the way they should and Benny shouts at him for missing multiple passes. By chemistry that afternoon he's feeling achy and miserable, and when he passes Castiel in the corridor the alpha doesn't look much better. Cas is walking with Jimmy, looking sullen and chastised while Jimmy’s brow is pulled down in a frown and he very definitely glares at Dean as they pass each other. 

Castiel looks like he's about to stop and speak to him, his blue eyes heavy with longing, but Jimmy’s firm hand on his elbow propels him along and Dean sags against the wall, wiping a layer of sweat from his brow. This is awful. He wants the comfort of his alpha and the safety of the bedroom and their combined scents. What he doesn't want is another period of chemistry, nor the long walk home after school. 

He doesn't see Castiel again for the rest of the day, even though he goes out of his way to walk past the alpha’s office and the library, just in case. The walk home is long and arduous and he's thoroughly depressed by the time he reaches the motel, and immediately heads for the shower as a means of distraction. Sammy is out with friends yet again, and John is nowhere to be found. The solitude is bliss on his overwrought nerves; he doesn't want to have to think, to talk, or explain himself. He checks his phone again for the hundredth time. Still no message from Cas and he forcibly shoves back a wave of depression at the sight of the blank screen. 

Later, hair damp and sprinkling cool droplets onto his t-shirt, he's dutifully doing his homework when his phone pings and he scrambles for it so quickly that it skitters away onto the floor and he has to fumble under the table to find it. 

**Dean, I miss you. I miss you so much, my sweet omega. Spending the day apart has been so difficult.**

Elated, almost euphoric at the attention from his alpha, Dean furiously types out a reply. 

_ God, Cas, miss you so fucking much. Thought you'd forgotten me.  _

The reply is instant and fierce. 

**Never. I'll never forget you as long as I live, Dean. And I really hope I don't have to…**

His eyes _don’t_ mist up upon reading that. They definitely _do_ _not_. But he doesn't exactly have long to ruminate on what the alpha’s words could mean, nor does he have a chance to reply. 

“So when do I get to meet him?” John’s voice breaks into Dean’s reverie, making him jump guiltily and his phone clatters to the table. He gazes up at his father, wide-eyed at being caught. 

“Meet who, sir?”

“Whoever's making your face look like that.” John drops a paper bag onto the table in front of Dean. The delicious smell of barbecued meat makes his mouth water instantly and he tears into it as his stomach leaps with excitement. He hadn't realised how hungry he was. “I wanna meet him. Make sure he's good enough for my son.”

“He… I…” Dean stammers, faltering.  _ Fuck _ . How the hell is he supposed to play this one? “It's nothing serious,” he murmurs, tracing a knot in the tabletop with a finger. 

“Dean, come on now.” John opens a can of Coke with a tsk and hands it to his son. “If he's important to you, I want to meet him.” He leans back against the countertop, a beer in hand. “I honestly didn't think you'd find a mate this quickly, so young, but then I met Mary when she was your age and it was love at first sight.” John sips his drink, a wistful look in his eyes. “God, sometimes I really miss your mom.”

“I do too, Dad,” Dean responds, but his mind is still stuck on one word:  _ mate _ . How and why does his father think he's met his mate? “Listen, he and I… we aren't… it's nothing. Really.”

He needs to curtail this conversation. His cheeks are flushing at the mere thought of Cas mating him and his body wants it so badly he's struggling to repress a whimper. But the way John is looking at him, concern mixed with an unfamiliar fondness, douses that pretty quickly. 

“Dean. It's pretty clear you've scent bonded with this guy.” John’s raised eyebrow says everything and Dean blushes scarlet right to the tips of his ears. Oh  _ shit _ . He was so caught up in thinking about Castiel that he forgot his blockers after his shower. His throat constricts with nerves - both because someone else has confirmed the suspicions that have been plaguing him since last night but also because that someone is his  _ father _ . He's torn between utter humiliation and a spark of pride that he's managed to find someone so quickly. Maybe he's not to total fuckup he thought he was. 

“It's… I mean, he's… I like him.” He finishes lamely, closing his eyes at how ridiculous he sounds. Just because he's a teenager with a crush doesn't mean he has to act like one. 

“Well, invite him for dinner one night. I can pick you both up.”

“Pick us up?” Dean parrots, the last bite of his burger halfway to his mouth. Shit, his dad really  _ does _ know, doesn't he? And he opens his mouth to come clean, to clarify, to make sure they're on the same page because while he knows is father is supportive he had no idea he was  _ this _ supportive. He knows he and Cas are having an illicit relationship, knows it's wrong on a handful of levels, so to think John doesn't mind as much as he thought it refreshing. 

But before he can form words, John continues. 

“Yeah, from your after school study thing. Figured you're seeing a boy from your group. Thought I'd maybe catch sight of him when I dropped you off, but I guess you were the last one there since nobody else went in. Did you meet him at school?”

Oblivious to Dean’s horrified face, John chugs the rest of his beer and turns to the refrigerator for another as understanding dawns on his eldest son. John thinks Dean is seeing someone from his class. A  _ student _ . Not a teacher a decade his senior. Shit. 

_ Shit _ . 

How the hell is he going to explain this one?


	8. Chapter 8

Sam has a nightmare that night, which isn’t a huge surprise due to the freaked-out stink that Dean has been putting out ever since his conversation with his father.    
John had finished his second beer and headed around the corner to shoot some pool at The Roadhouse and hasn’t been back since, which suits Dean down to the ground. He’s caught in his own personal panic, torn between wanting to tell his father the truth and wanting him to never find out until at least a few years down the line. He had mumbled something about not being quite ready to introduce the alpha to his family and John had smiled, clapped him on the shoulder, and told him not to be so shy.

“Dean, whoever he is, I’m sure we’ll all get along great. If you’ve chosen him for yourself then there’s a damn good reason for it and I trust your judgement.” John had regarded him with a strange, calculating expression tinged with sadness as he gripped Dean’s shoulder to hold him in place. “You’re an adult now, Dean. Not a kid any longer, and I need to start trusting you with your own future. Whoever this kid is, I’m sure he’s just fine. But bring him over, let me check him out for myself, make sure I think he’s good enough for my boy.”   


Guilt had eaten away at Dean then, and he’d nodded mutely and escaped to hide in the bathroom as soon as possible and had waited there until John Winchester had hollered at him that he was going out and would be back late. He’d waited for the slam of the motel door then had sunk down with his back to the crabby old bathtub with his head in his hands and moaned in frustration and anxiety.    


He has a feeling his father won’t be quite so accepting of his alpha when he realises that the guy is over a decade older than him. In fat, he doesn’t want to think about what could happen at all. Cas doesn’t strike him as an aggressive alpha but John certainly can be if he feels his family are being threatened. And an older alpha with a claim on Dean? John would definitely see that as a threat, even though the claim so far is only a scent bond. There’s no blood bond yet, no bite, although Dean’s body craves it like his lungs crave oxygen. If he and Cas don’t put the brakes on fast he knows they won’t be able to hold back for much longer.    
He had pretended to be asleep when Sammy came in at just past nine PM, his back to the door, but hadn’t missed the sharp intake of breath and whispered, ‘Ew!’ as Sam takes a breath of Dean’s newly-bonded scent mixed with his anxiety. He knew he must be stinking the motel room up, yet all he did was hug his pillow tighter and feign sleep while Sam moved around putting his things away and getting ready for bed.   


Sleep doesn’t come to him at all. He’s too caught up in worrying about everything all at once. On one hand, he feels elated that he and Cas are so strong together already, and at Cas suggesting that he wants more. There’s only one thing that ‘more’ can logically mean, if it’s their biology Cas is referring to: a bite. Mating. Becoming so strongly bonded to each other that if the bond were to be broken it could potentially kill one or both of them. And that’s some damn scary shit, especially at eighteen, but Dean’s always been headstrong and trusting of his own heart. He knows Cas is it for him. But on the other hand, he’s panicking because he’s young and he’s an omega, and he’s heard horror stories of alpha’s mistreating their mates. Of courting them and grooming them, making them feel like a million dollars and then turning possessive and abusive after the bond is formed.    


But his instincts rear up at this train of thought: he knows innately that Castiel isn’t like that. Castiel is good.   


Then there’s worry over John eventually finding out, which he will, and going crazy at one or both of them, which is likely. He’s eighteen, and in John’s own words, capable of deciding his future mate, yet legally he can’t leave his family home (or the string of motels they’ve hopped about in) until his father approves of an alpha for him. And will John really approve of Cas, an alpha ten years his senior and in a position of power? It seems unlikely. It’ll take all of Castiel’s considerable grace and restraint for them to even have a shot at a civil conversation, and then what? If John forbids it, Castiel cannot mate him without formally challenging John Winchester for a claim over an omega.   


Dean turns over in bed, grimacing at the archaic nonsense that is so intrinsically linked to his DNA. He hates feeling like someone’s property, although his father has been very careful never to treat him as such and Cas… Well, Cas treats him like a god. But it really sucks for all the other omegas in the world, that he knows for sure.   


Then, there’s the third and final thing keeping him awake: Jimmy Novak and the concerns he holds over the school’s reaction to Dean and Castiel being together. Can they keep it secret for the next few months until Dean graduates? He hopes so, but if they mate it will be impossible. A bite on his neck will be seen at some point and if he’s sloppy with his scent blockers it will be painfully obvious that he’s mated, even though it may not be obvious who to. People will begin to ask questions and as his alpha Castiel wouldn’t let him deal with it all on his own. It could get messy. Real, real messy. The simplest answer is not to mate until he’s graduated but with how Dean feels now he’s not sure he can wait that long.    


Dean burrows deeper into his pillow, sighing, then turning and sitting bolt upright as a sound from Sam’s nearby bed catches his attention. It’s a whimper, a low whine of distress, and the kid’s hand is unconsciously reaching out for Dean between the beds, fingers jerking, and in the pale light seeping through the crappy net curtains Dean can see tears glistening on his baby brother’s cheeks.     


“Sammy?”   


He sits up and kicks the sheets off his legs, moving to his brother’s side and shaking him lightly.    


“Hey. Kid. Wake up.”   


“Dean…” Sam mumbles under his breath, eyes scrunched tightly shut as his hand twists in the leg of Dean’s pajama pants. “Mom…”   


A lump forms in Dean’s throat and he shakes Sam a little harder. It must be the same nightmare as always: memories of the car crash that killed their mother years ago. Sam was too young to really remember much, beyond Dean lifting him from the car seat and carrying him a safe distance away, but his subconscious has crafted such detailed visions of the accident over the years that Dean knows his dreams will be vivid, stark, and horrifying.    


“Sam, c’mon. Wake up, it ain't real.”   


“ _ Mom _ !” Sam gasps, as Dean’s heart aches. He grips his little brother by the shoulders and shakes him, hard, giving him a light slap on the cheek. Sam’s hazel eyes open slowly, lash lines wet with tears, and he stares unseeingly at the ceiling for a long moment before drawing in a deep shuddering breath, blinking, and whispering, “Dean?”   


“Hey, buddy.” Dean sits down on the edge of the bed as Sam finally relinquishes his death-grip on his pants leg. “Nightmare?”   


“Yeah,” Sam croaks, scrubbing a hand over his face and wiping his tears away feverishly. “Mom. The accident.” He swallows audibly, trying to regain control. “The usual. I'm fine. Thanks for waking me.”   


“No problem.” Dean returns to his own bed, burritoing himself in the sheets. “You can always sleep here if you wanna. Just don't lick or hog the blankets.”   


“I'm fine.” Sam shifts, turning his back. “I'm too old to sleep in your bed, Dean. I'm not a child.”   


“Yeah, yeah, was only saying.”    


Dean closes his eyes, head turned away, and waits. And sure enough, less than a minute later, the bed dips as Sam crawls onto it and lies at the very edge, as far away from Dean as possible yet close enough to feel comforted, and Dean smiles into the darkness.    


“You smell different,” Sam whispers, wriggling a little to get comfortable and elbowing Dean in the side accidentally, drawing a grunt of discomfort from him. “It’s Mr Novak, isn’t it? Something happened?”   


“Shut it, Sammy,” Dean growls, in no mood to talk about it. “Mind your own.”   


Sam is quiet for a while, so long that Dean wonders if he’s fallen asleep. Then, “Does Dad know?”   


“No. And don’t you go telling him.”   


“So something _did_ happen!” Sam sits up triumphantly and Dean covers his face with his hands, furious at himself for falling into that trap. “Tell me, Dean. I won’t tell. Did you kiss?”   


“Sammy. Nothing happened that you need to know about. Now shut your cake hole and let me get some sleep.”   


“Deeeean.” It comes out as a frustrated whine. “C’mon. You really like him, don’t you?” Sam sniffs the air and screws his face up. “Have you… Are you two bonded? I don’t see a bite on your neck…”   


“Sam!” Dean feels as though his face is on fire with humiliation. He is not having this conversation with his younger brother.    


“Scent bonded then. You must have. Kevin and I were talking about it at school yesterday, and it's basically the step before mating. Did you discuss it? Or did it, like, just happen?” Sam props himself up on his elbow, wide-awake now. “And how did it…” A look of horror crosses his face as sudden comprehension dawns. “Oh my God. You slept with him, didn't you?”   


“Sam!” Dean barks. “Cut it out!” His cheeks are burning like beacons and he's glad it's so dark, so hopefully it isn't obvious.    


“Shit, Dean, this is  _ huge! _ Does he want to mate you?” Sam leans forward in interest. “What's Dad gonna say? Do you think they'll fight?”   


“Who put batteries in you?” Dean grumbles, turning to face the wall and jerking the sheet off his brother to wrap himself in it. “Go. To. Sleep. Or I'll put Nair in your shampoo and salt in your coffee.”   


Sam whines for a bit longer but soon realises that Dean is standing his ground and is no longer replying. Eventually, his breathing evens out into soft snores, yet Dean lies awake for a long time afterwards, mind still full of questions he doesn't have the answers to.    


Does Cas want to mate him?    


Will Cas and his father come to blows?   


And what the hell is John going to say when he finds out?   


It's only after John has stumbled back in a few hours later, mumbling to himself and stinking of beer, that Dean manages to get some sleep. His father passes out on the sofa, and he knows he will likely not be awake early tomorrow, which means Dean can creep out and go to Castiel’s. They gotta talk about this.    
  
•••

“My dad wants to -  _ mmfph _ !”    


Dean is cut off mid-sentence by Castiel’s lips claiming his the second the door is pulled open, and he swoons in the alpha’s arms as the thick aroma of whiskey, green tea and old books accosts his nose. Luckily, Castiel’s arms are around his waist and he manages to catch him before his knees buckle, then Dean is being propelled into the house and kissed so thoroughly that when they break apart he's breathless and seeing stars. Cas’ lips are glistening with Dean’s saliva and there’s a thin ring of red around his irises. Dean swallows,  _ hard. _ He wanted to have a proper conversation with Cas but now all he wants to do is drop to his knees and swallow his alpha’s cock until he comes down his throat.   


“Dean, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” Cas brushes Dean’s hair back from his forehead, breathing deeply in an attempt to regain control. “I’ve missed you so much.”    


“It’s only been two days, Cas,” Dean laughs breathily, but he gets it. He’s missed the older man so much he’s barely been able to concentrate on anything, and he’s also been struggling to eat and sleep. His body is crying out for the comfort of his alpha’s scent and the touch of his skin and his heart just craves the closeness. He buries his face in Castiel’s neck, bares his own for the alpha to do the same, and inhales deeply. A sense of peace, of calm, descends over him and the low, ebbing feeling of  _ home _ echoes somewhere deep in his psyche. 

He doesn’t have time to ponder it too much right now however, because Cas leans in and kisses him again, although this time it’s sweeter and more chaste. It’s a soft press of lips, the gentle sharing of a breath, a brush of knuckles against his cheek, and Dean can’t help but hum happily into his alpha’s mouth. This is what he’s needed. Just Cas.   


“What were you saying, Dean? Before I cut you off so rudely?” Castiel nips Dean’s lower lip and pulls away, taking his hand instead and drawing him down the hallway.   


“Uhm,” Dean blinks, trying to focus. His brain feels like cotton wool. “My dad. My dad, Cas. He wants to meet you.” His voice rises with a note of hysteria. “He wants to meet you! What the hell are we gonna do?”   


“Dean.” Cas pulls him close, cups his face and stares deeply into his eyes, suddenly serious. The air has soured with the scent of Dean’s anxiety. “My omega, don't panic. We’ll be fine.”   


“How do you know that, Cas? What if my dad challenges you? Over me? What if-”   


“Dean. Breathe.” Cas takes his hand and draws him into the kitchen where he pours them both a glass of juice and they sit down at the breakfast bar together. “I hate the idea of having to battle over you. You're not an object to me, Dean. Not something I need to claim ownership of. You're you, your own person. I know you're not like other omegas who won't stand up for themselves, and that's one of the reasons why I-” Cas stops talking abruptly, clears his throat, and a spike of something new tinges his scent. “Why I like you so much.”    


Had Dean not been in the middle of a total freak out about his father, he may have noticed that Castiel almost said something entirely different. But he's so focused on the fear of two alpha's going head-to-head over him that he can think of little else.    


“My dad, he's so protective of me. Of Sammy too, but me especially. Because I'm an omega. And he's got this idea in his head that I'm seeing someone from school, and-” Dean cuts himself off in distress, running a hand through his hair.    


“Well.” Castiel smirks in spite of himself. “Technically you are…”   


“Cas!” Dean wails, reaching over to punch the alpha on the arm. “I'm serious!”   


“I know you are, Dean. I'm sorry. I can't promise you that things with your father will be easy,” he leans over and tucks an errant strand of Dean’s hair behind his ear, reminding him that he needs a haircut. “But I can promise you I'll be with you every step of the way, and I'll make our meeting as painless as I can. I hope your father will understand that I could be a good alpha for you.”   


“You make this sound like a long-term thing, Cas.” He smiles nervously, purposely fishing, and Cas returns his smile warmly with a hint of alpha red flashing in his blue gaze.    


“It is for me. I never want to let you go.” He fingers the bare spot on Dean’s neck. “Maybe one day you'll let me mate you.”   


Dean’s mouth runs dry at this. Cas’ words are confirmation of everything he's been hoping for and now he doesn't know how to respond. Luckily Cas seems to sense this and leans in to steal a kiss.    


“But until then, I want to do this right. Court you properly. Take you on dates. I want to be a good alpha for you, and to prove to your father and brother that not only can I look after you if I had to, but that you and I would be equals in our partnership. I'd never harm you, Dean, nor ask more from you than you were willing to give.”   


“So if I didn't want to stay home and clean the house…?”   


“You wouldn't have to.” Cas kisses him again. “I want your happiness, Dean. Whatever career you choose, I'll support you as your alpha.”   


“Yeah?” He knows he's grinning like an idiot but he can't help it. This is all so fast, so perfect, and he's elated beyond words. He allows Cas to tangle their fingers together. “My alpha, huh? I like the sound of that.”   


“So do I.” Castiel’s gaze is loaded with emotion, with a word he hasn't said yet but Dean knows can't be far away if he’s looking at him like this. “My omega.”


	9. Chapter 9

And court him, Cas does. Over the next week, Dean finds himself falling even more for the handsome alpha and it's all because of the way Castiel has decided to treat him. There's still heat and passion, sure. But beneath that is an underlying romance, something warm and domestic, and every night as Dean falls asleep in his crappy motel room with his drunk father and annoying little brother he feels something he never has before: special. Unique. Wanted. Adored. And a little lost.

He wants to spend every night with Castiel. He wants to fall asleep in his arms and wake up to bright blue eyes and hands caressing his jaw, soft kisses and fingers trailing up his spine, to the smell of coffee and breakfast in bed amongst fluffy sheets and feather pillows. He wants more. He wants it all, and he doesn't want to wait. But Castiel is firm. He’s been taking charge and using his alpha voice whenever Dean whines, and he has to admit that taking it slowly is actually making their flourishing relationship all the more exciting. Their passion hasn't burned out - not even close. They've had sex twelve times this week (not that Dean’s counting, that would make him a total loser...) and every time it just gets hotter and steamier and more erotic. Dean’s certain he's never has so many incredible orgasms in such a short amount of time before. Every time he thinks they've reached a peak, that the sex between them simply can't get any better, Castiel goes right ahead and proves him wrong. And he loves it every time.

He’s showering now, warm and relaxed under the spray, and is testing his aching muscles slowly in order to work out which ones hurt the most and trying to match them to a particular movement or position. His thighs ache like crazy and he doesn’t have to think too hard to work out why: he spent almost thirty minutes in Castiel’s lap on the couch before they stumbled to the bedroom. He rode him harder and harder, rocking his hips and grinding down on his alpha’s cock, drawing beautiful moans and sinful whines from Castiel’s lips as deep, finger-shaped bruises began to form on his hips. He runs his fingers over those bruises now as he thinks back with a secret smile at the corner of his mouth. Knowing that Castiel’s marks will be on his body, hidden beneath his clothes for him to peek at whenever he’s feeling the loss of his alpha and wants to remind himself exactly who they are to each other leaves a delightful shiver of pleasure running down his spine.

The water runs in a stream down his spine as he ducks his head, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, spitting out a mouthful of water, and inhaling the cinnamon-sweet scent of Castiel’s body wash. It doesn’t have a pheromone blocker in it, he notes with interest, so for the rest of the evening he can expect Castiel to steal glances and touches and to nuzzle his neck and breathe him in the way he always does when Dean’s scent is unmasked. He’s surprised the alpha hasn’t joined him in the shower, but then again Castiel is downstairs making them some dinner, and his focus is probably all on his cooking since he’s been so vigilant in taking care of Dean over the last few days and keeping his strength up after their marathons in the bedroom. Especially after this afternoon.

It happened. It finally happened. Castiel knotted him, and true to his word, could barely hold back from mating Dean. Just remembering it has Dean closing his eyes and bracing himself against the wall with one hand. He presses his fingers between his legs, feels the last remnants of Castiel’s come drip down his thighs to be lost in the swirling water, and loses himself in the memory.

_“My omega,” Castiel pants, kissing the back of Dean’s neck as he thrusts in and out of him. “My perfect omega.”_

_“God, Cas. Right there, fuck, oh fuck…_

_Lying on his side, Dean has one hand fisted in the pillow beside his head and the other laced with Castiel’s where it rests on his hip. They work together to pull him firmly back onto the alpha’s cock with each thrust. They've been at it for what feels like hours; their skin is sticky with sweat, the sheets damp beneath them, and the mingled scent of Dean’s slick and their precome is heady and rich, helping chase them both towards climax. Dean inclines his head to allow Castiel to steal a deep kiss, and he feels the alpha’s knot start to swell. It tugs at his rim with each inward thrust and causes him to moan wantonly. It feels_ so good _, stretching him in a new way he's never experienced, and he reaches back, clinging to Castiel and silently begging him not to stop._

_“Dean, I promised you,” Castiel grits out. “I said I would wait…”_

_“Fuck waiting, Cas. Knot me.” He almost says more, but manages to bite himself off before he begs the alpha to mate him. He won't be that omega. Not yet. “I want it. I know you want it. Take me, alpha. Give me your knot, make me yours.”_

_The growl pulled from Castiel’s lips is utterly sinful and his fingers dig deep into the soft flesh at Dean’s hips. His knot swells further, stretching him wider, and he whines, keening at the sensation. It stings, a burning type of pain - but the wet tip of Castiel’s thick erection is brushing his prostate with every thrust and the pain is mingling with sparks of blinding pleasure, creating a heady mixture that Dean craves more of._

_“Dean,” Castiel presses deep, pushes his knot inside and holds Dean there, lips at his neck, panting harshly. “Promise me you want this. That you want me. I don't think I can… Dean, I want you so much, omega. I can't…”_

_“Fuck yeah.” Dean pushes his hips back, groaning at how full he feels. “Fuckin’ knot me, alpha. Take what's yours.”_

_“So tight, my beautiful omega,” Castiel groans. His thrusts are growing shallow now, grinding deeply as his knot swells too big to pull out and Dean cries out at the knowledge that they're tied now. Castiel is going to come inside him, fill him up, and claim him. They're so close to mating, if Castiel just lost a little more of his iron-clad self-control…_

He shuts off the water, shakes the worst of the droplets from his hair, and towels off. He wipes the steam from the mirror to take a look at himself, and he feels a jolt of anxiety when he sees his reflection. Right there - right where a mating bite would go - is a deep hickey, flushed and dark, and it’s as sure a sign as any that he’s in a serious, intimate relationship with someone. He runs his fingertips over the skin, tracing it tenderly as he remembers Castiel doing it. They were tied together, lying on their sides with Dean’s back to Cas’ chest, sweat-drenched and sticky, and Castiel had just come inside Dean for a second time. He had moaned low in his throat when he felt the alpha’s lips, felt his teeth, and arched into it as Cas left his mark. Now he wishes the skin had been broken - wishes he had a mating bite. He wants it so badly that it manifests in his chest as a dull ache, causes a lump to form in his throat, raises his heart rate, and makes his skin prickle.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice floats up from the kitchen and he feels a pang of need at the very sound. “I've made dinner, are you hungry?”

“Coming!” he calls back, giving the hickey one last stroke before wrapping the towel around his waist. Something smells incredible and his mouth waters as he inhales. Dinner smells good, sure. Something spicy and sweet. But it's their combined scent lingering in the bedroom that hits him harder, and he stands still for a moment to breathe it in deep. Honeyed whiskey tones mingle with spiced apple green tea. The scent of old books is refreshed by something clean and powerful. It's their scent bond, which is clearly intensifying now that they've been tied together for so long. He dresses slowly, not wanting to miss a single second of immersing himself in this beautiful scent, then makes his way downstairs to find his dinner, and his alpha.

“Hi, gorgeous.” Castiel wraps him in his embrace, kissing him deeply and causing Dean to go weak at the knees under the affection. “I've missed you.”

Dean scents him, pressing his nose into Castiel’s skin. “Hey, yourself.” God, he smells incredible.

“Are you alright?” Castiel takes him by the shoulders, holding him at arm’s length and scrutinising him with his head tilted to one side and his blue eyes narrowed. “You're sure you're happy with what we did?” He presses a finger to the hickey on Dean’s neck, rubbing it gently and sending a shiver down his spine.

“Hell yeah, Cas,” Dean grins, baring his neck to the attention. “Can't wait to do it again.”

“Good. Me neither.”

A loud buzzing from somewhere in the kitchen distracts them, and Dean frowns at the interruption.

“You're in high demand,” Castiel nuzzles at his neck, inhaling his scent deeply just as Dean knew he would. “Your cell has been going crazy for the last ten minutes.”

“Really?” Panic lances through Dean and he disentangles himself from his alpha. “Is it my dad?”

He scoops up his cell and presses the button to light it up, seeing a list of text messages and missed calls - none of them from his father, thankfully - and he breathes a sigh of relief as he opens the first message.

**Winchester! Stop ignoring me! Now!**

He can't help but snicker as he scrolls back, finding six messages within ten minutes of each other, ranging from gentle prodding to outright demands that he answer his phone.

“Anyone important?” Castiel has come up behind him and is tracing a pattern onto the sensitive skin right over his hickey. Cas has an obsession with that part of Dean’s body, and has no qualms about showing it.

“My friend Charlie, from school.” He snaps his phone closed, tossing it away onto the table. “I'll call her later.”

“You should call her now, Dean,” Castiel says reprovingly. “It sounds important.”

“It won't be. She’ll only be calling to gossip.” She's the only one who knows about us. “She's been on vacation and will want to know what homework she's missed. Little nerd.”

“Still.” Castiel kisses him, tilting his chin. “Don't neglect your friends. Call her.”

“Fine, whatever. Don't burn dinner.”  
Castiel laughs, swatting him on the ass as he dances away out of reach, dialling. “Don't you worry about that.”

The phone rings once, twice, then a slightly hysterical shriek comes out of nowhere and he winces, wondering if he's likely to go prematurely deaf from this friendship.

“Dean! What the hell? You've been MIA all week, I was starting to freak out!”

“Sorry, I…”

“I was even gonna call Sam! Like, where the hell have you been?”

“Charlie, I…”

“Don't do that again! You're my BFF, Dean, and I anything happened to you then I don't know what I would do!”

“Charlie!” he yells, cutting off her excitable rant effectively, and she squeaks in surprise at him down the line. “I'm not dead, I'm fine.” He sneaks a glance over at where Castiel is pressing buttons on the coffee machine and pretending not to listen. “I've just been busy.”

“So busy you couldn't even call me? That's not like you, Winchester! Busy doing what?” As silence stretches between them, he can practically hear her grinning. “Or should I say, doing who?”

“Whom,” he corrects, automatically, and Charlie squeals with laughter.

“Oh you have been taking these extra tutorials seriously, haven't you! Tell me, has he had his wicked way with you yet?” Charlie smirks at herself. “Does he know you're into him? Have you talked about it?” Silence. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Charlie. He knows.” Across the room, Castiel is smiling fondly at him and Dean’s omega preens under the attention. “We, uh, yeah. He definitely knows.”

“Really?!” Charlie’s shriek is sure to be heard by Castiel and Dean cringes.

“Dean! Oh my god! What happened, tell me? Did you kiss?”

“Charlie, now isn't really-”

“Does he like you too? I mean, are you going to do something about it? God I can't believe this, I go off on some dumb field trip and you go and get yourself all loved up. So are you going to wait ‘til graduation? Then is he going to whisk you away somewhere totally romantic?”

Shit. How the hell does he tell Charlie that not only does Castiel like him, not only have they kissed, but they've scent bonded and that he's been knotted by the alpha? How the fuck does he tell her he's totally head over heels for his teacher, and that his omega is overruling the part of his brain that tells him it's all kinds of inappropriate and wrong?

“Charlie. Look. How about I come over tomorrow or something? We should, uh, talk about it all.”

“I don't know if I can wait that long, Dean. I want all the gory details! Wait.” She pauses, realisation suddenly dawning. “Dean, have you slept with him?”

“Charlie, look...”

“Oh my god, you _have_! You totally have! I need details, Winchester! Right now!”

“I'll call you. Later, I promise.” His cheeks are burning, Castiel is looking at him with a wicked grin on his face, and he feels like he might die of humiliation right here, right now. “I have to go.”

“You're with him right now, aren't you? _Dean_ , holy shit!”

“Bye, Charlie.”

He hangs up, tosses his phone away, and buries his face in his hands just as Castiel wraps his arms around his waist.

“She's just excited for you, Dean. Concerned, maybe. But excited.”

“Yeah, that's the part I'm worried about.”

“Can she keep a secret?”

“Definitely. She's like the CIA. Hacking skills on point and everything.”

“Then everything will be fine. Talk to her, set her mind at ease. But first come eat.”

Dinner is simple but delicious, and Dean almost swoons when he tastes his first mouthful of baked chicken. The sound he makes must be something akin to orgasmic because Castiel’s eyes flash red for a second and he puts his fork down, contemplating.

“Come away with me, Dean. This weekend. I know a hotel upstate, not too far, that I'd love to take you to. We can spend the whole weekend together, and I can take you out to dinner like you deserve and not have to worry about us being recognised.” Castiel laces their hands together across the table. “I want to show you off.”

“Really?” Dean blushes happily. “Sounds great, Cas. But my dad…”

Castiel cuts him off superbly by leaning across the table to capture his mouth, kissing him deep and hungry, leaving him breathless when he pulls away. Castiel smiles triumphantly and Dean knows when he's beaten.

“I'll sort it out. Yeah, Cas. We can go away. I can't wait.”

•••

“Dad?”

Dean blinks owlishly, half-asleep in front of the TV. Sam is snoring softly, stretched out on his bed, and John Winchester has just stumbled in and is closing the door behind him, trying to be as quiet as he can. At the sound of Dean’s voice he jumps violently, knocking into the table and overturning two empty beer bottles in the process. Sam grunts and turns over, long legs dangling off the end of the bed like a spider.

“Shit, Dean. Scared the life outta me, son. The hell are you doing still awake?”

“Uh, couldn't sleep. Where've you been?”

“Out,” John grunts, and Dean catches a whiff of stale beer as his father wanders past him to the kitchen. “How was school?”

“Oh - school was fine.” Dean tries resolutely not to think about what he did after school in the privacy of Castiel’s house. “Um, Dad? Can I ask you something?”

“Suppose so,” John’s voice is muffled, his head in the refrigerator. There's a clink, and Dean knows his dad is getting another drink.

“Can I go away this weekend?”

He hates having to ask. But it isn't up to him, especially when there's an alpha involved. And if he went wandering off with Cas without telling anyone, John would know the second he got back and things could get… nasty. He silently curses the antiquated customs that keep omegas practically property of their families until they mate, but simultaneously is glad that his father doesn't enforce the rules that he so easily could. He's still allowed to go out alone, to spend time with his alpha boyfriend unsupervised, and John isn't forcing a meeting upon him. Not just yet, anyhow. He's managed to put it off so far.

“Where? Who with?”

“Upstate.”

“With this alpha boy of yours?”

“Uh, yeah. Just for two nights. We wanted to spend some time together.”

“Stayin’ where? Don't expect me to cough up for a motel room for you and some kid I don't even know.” John glowers. “Some alpha I don't even know.”

“No, no, I don't. He can pay.” Shit, not the right thing to say. John is frowning even deeper.

“He rich, this alpha?”

“His, uh, family is. Yeah. Really rich. It's not a problem.” What is this garbage he's coming out with? John is sure to see straight through him, especially since he's now blushing like the teenage omega stereotype he's trying so hard to break.

“He's not trying to buy your affections, right?” John says, sharply. “I won't stand for anyone trying to take advantage of you, Dean. Maybe I should have a word with his parents before you go…”

“No! No. That not necessary.” This conversation needs to be over, yesterday. He's digging himself in so deep he's going to be vacationing in Shanghai at this rate. “He's not like that. Really, Dad. He's great. You'll see, you'll meet him soon.” He crosses his fingers behind his back. “Real soon.”

“Fine. One condition.” John strips off his overshirt and tosses it over the back of the couch, sinking down onto it with an exhausted grunt.

“Uh, yeah. Sure, anything.” A knot has formed in the pit of his stomach; he's sure he knows where this is going.

“I meet this boy of yours afterward. When his parents drop you home on Sunday night. Got it?”

“Dad, I…”

“I said, got it?” John’s tone leaves absolutely no room for argument and Dean’s shoulders slump in defeat as he nods. His father watches him in the reflection of the now silent TV. “Good. Sunday night, Dean. We’ll all have dinner together here. You, me, Sam, and… what's his name?”

“Ca… uh,” Dean can't think quick enough. Can't come up with any male name at all, and John’s eyes narrow as he stutters. “Cas. It's Cas.”

“Cas. Right. Well, I look forward to meetin’ this Cas. Now get some sleep. Want you up early tomorrow to help Sam with his homework and to run to the store for me. Least you can do before you vanish for three days.”

Sunday. Three days away. A romantic weekend with Castiel, then the official ‘meet the family’. Shit.

How the hell is he going to get out of this one?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is a gem, all credit to her and her wonderful self for helping me with this chapter.

“Hello, Dean.”

Castiel smiles, leaning across to kiss his omega as the passenger door slams shut. He cups the back of Dean’s head, pulling him in for a slow, passionate kiss. Once he gets his fill, he presses feather-light kisses to his neck, listening in satisfaction as his omega sighs beneath him. Dean suddenly goes rigid and pulls away.

“Cas! Stop! My dad…”

“Nobody is looking,” Castiel has one eye on the motel window. “And I've missed you so much I can hardly control myself.”

“But…” Dean’s green eyes dance around warily, looking for spectators. “What would people think if they saw…?”

“That I'm an incredibly lucky man.”

Castiel seals their mouths together again, licking leisurely into Dean’s mouth and inhaling the sweet scent of his omega pheromones deeply. Breaking free of him sorrowfully, he strokes his knuckles down Dean’s cheek then puts the car into reverse.

“I hope you like what I have planned for you.”

The words sound as though they might hold a double edge and Dean casts Castiel a sharp look to try to figure it out. The small upturn of one corner of his mouth is proof enough that there's certainly more than one meaning to the statement, and Dean grips the handle of the door with one hand and his own thigh with the other as they move out towards the freeway.

“As long as I’m with you, I’m sure I’m gonna,” Dean answers finally. “Where are we staying, anyway?”

“I rented us an apartment,” Castiel says, eyes dark and focused as he drives. Above them, the clouds are thick and heavy and if the weather doesn’t improve they’ll probably end up spending the entire weekend inside. Which, on reflection, Dean thinks could be a pretty damn good way to spend the time. “About an hour away from here. It’s nice, I think you’ll like it. There are some restaurants, cafes…” Castiel trails off, mouth twitching. “And a king sized bed.”

“Of course.”

“Of course. Only the best for my omega,” Castiel’s hand finds his, squeezes, and Dean flushes with excitement.

Being out in public as a couple with his alpha is everything Dean dreamed it would be. They walk hand-in-hand through the town, stop to kiss in doorways and take shelter from the rain, laugh loudly together without the worry of drawing attention, and Dean feels elated with happiness. Free. He imagines his future with Cas, can picture this every day without the lingering worry of his father finding out or the school discovering them. Freedom. A bite on his neck. Happiness.

“Dean?” Castiel kisses his temple. “Shall we go back to the apartment?”

They’ve just finished dinner at what Castiel would probably call a dive bar but Dean adored and would frequent daily if he could. Burgers and fries, milkshakes and Coke, easy laughter and music from the ancient jukebox in the background punctuated by the murmur of voices all around them. Nobody had paid them any attention, and the waitress had given them a warm smile when she took their order, glancing at their entwined hands and no doubt scenting their bond but passing no comment. It was wonderful.

They fall into bed later, exhausted, and all Dean wants to do is wrap himself around Castiel and sleep. He buries himself into the other man’s side, sighing, hating himself a little bit for being so needy but unable to stop the impulses. Castiel welcomes him with an arm around his shoulders and lips to his temple.

“Sleep, Dean. My omega. Today has been perfect. I could wish for nothing more.”

“Me neither, Cas. ‘S been awesome.” He yawns hugely. “Thanks. For, y’know, this.”

“Anything for you.”

“Really?” Cringing, Dean sees his moment and takes it. “Well, I got a favor to ask, in that case.”

“Go on.” Castiel caresses his bare shoulder in slow circles. “It’s about your father, yes?”

“How did you know?” A sigh escapes his lips. “He wants to meet you. Sunday. Dinner. He won’t take no for an answer, it’s the only reason I was allowed to come away at all. I tried to tell him no, but-”

“Dean. Stop panicking.” Castiel’s arm tightens securely around him. “I’ll go to dinner. It isn’t a problem. I think it’s time your father and I talked, don’t you?”

“I guess…” Dean shivers at the thought of what could happen. “I just don’t want everything to turn to shit.”

“It won’t.” Castiel turns out the light on the bedside table and takes Dean fully in his arms. “Trust me, Dean. It won’t. Sleep now. You’re safe with me.”

 _I love you_ , is Dean’s last conscious thought.   
  
•••   
  
Dean wakes in the night to a dark silhouette standing at the window, staring out. He pushes himself up onto an elbow, blinking, and tugs the sheets around his waist. The smell of their languid sex from this afternoon still lingers on the bedding and on his skin, yet he can't find it in him to regret not taking a shower. It smells good. It smells like home.

“Cas?”

“Dean.” Castiel turns, face illuminated in the moonlight. “I woke you. I'm so sorry.”

“You didn’t. Maybe you did. Dunno.” Dean yawns hugely. “Time is it?”

“Late.” Castiel comes back to the bed and sits down on Dean’s hand, running his fingers through his hair and Dean leans into the touch. “Go back to sleep.”

“Hmm. That feels nice, don’t stop.” He lies back down, closing his eyes and sensing Castiel’s smile as he settles next to him to stroke his hair. Soft fingertips trail over his temples, his cheekbones, his jaw, down the length of his nose, and he sighs in enjoyment. “I could get used to this.”

“What? Me showering you with affection?”

“No.” Dean fights his initial instinct to jut his chin belligerently. “Maybe. But I mean this.” He gestures between the pair of them without opening his eyes. “You and me. Nobody else around, nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to hide,” Castiel says softly, twisting a strand of Dean’s hair around his fingers. “No obstacles between us. Just you. And just me. Together.” He sighs. “That’s all I want, you know? It’s all I think about when I’m alone without you. All I do is count down the minutes until you’re in my arms again. What have you done to me, Dean?” His eyes are dark and moody. “You’re like my drug. I’m addicted to you.”

“Take me again, Cas.” Dean sits up and attempts to straddle his alpha’s thighs. “I want you inside me.”

He goes in for a kiss, his body already responding at the low desire he thinks he can hear in Castiel’s voice, and his heart stutters when Castiel turns his head away.   
“Cas?”

“No, Dean.” Firm hands clasp his hips and hold him at bay. “I can't. I'm sorry.”

“What…?”

It hits him like a tidal wave: rejection. His alpha doesn’t want him. It’s as though someone has dunked him in a bucket of ice water and his throat closes up so tightly that breathing becomes difficult. Sweat breaks out on his brow and although every part of him wants to curl away from Castiel mournfully, he can’t seem to let go of the alpha’s shoulders. Castiel isn’t looking at his face, he’s watching his own hands where they hold Dean by the hips, but when a choked sound escapes Dean as he tries to inhale, the blue eyes flicker up then widen in shock at the same moment that he scents the fear and anxiety coming off the omega in waves.

“Dean!” He pulls him in close, hands on his back warm and comforting, and Dean fights his grip prefuntorally, just for the sake of struggling. He wants cozy, loving alpha and his breath comes in fits and starts as he inhales Castiel’s immediate distress. “Dean, my omega. I’m not rejecting you, please. Never think that.” He caresses Dean’s spine, kisses his temple, nuzzles his neck, and Dean’s fear abates a little. “It’s not you. I want you, of course I do. You’re beautiful, you always are, but I just…”

Castiel trails off then adjusts them until he’s leaning against the headboard and Dean is lying draped on his chest. He strokes and caresses every inch of Dean’s skin he can reach until the sour scent of instant rejection dissolves into nothing and Dean begins to purr softly against his neck. He still doesn’t understand why Castiel doesn’t want to have sex, but is sure that he’s going to learn why if he stays quiet long enough. Although every atom in his body is itching to rear up and question the alpha until he spills it all and explains what the hell is going through his head.

It doesn’t take all that long.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Dean.” Castiel murmurs into Dean’s hair, and the omega in his arms tenses in shock. Of all the things he expected to hear, this wasn’t it. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to please me, or as though I expect anything from you. I adore your company, I enjoy every second of our time together and when we’re tied…” Castiel breaks off and sighs almost euphorically. “I could stay like that forever, bonded to you in that way. Lost in the scent of you, your beautiful body, the warmth of your skin…” Castiel sounds high now, his fingers stroking Dean’s skin softly. “Lying there with you is like being in a dream. A dream I never want to wake up from. But I fear that I’m putting too much pressure on you, that I’ve dragged you in deeper than you ever intended. That I’ve abused my-”

Castiel is cut off by Dean’s mouth finding and claiming his. He can’t let Castiel think he’s abused him in any way, he won’t. Everything they’ve done together has been out of choice - no, he amends mentally, kissing his alpha deeply and with intent. Not just out of choice, out of desire. Out of his own attraction to Castiel, an attraction initially sparked by his pheromones but ever since then he’s fallen more and more for the calm, stoic, handsome man _beneath_ the alpha. Castiel is kind, witty, charming in his own way, and everything Dean could ever want in a mate. And he can’t have Castiel thinking for even a second that he doesn’t deserve everything that Dean wants to give him.

Castiel’s hands slide up to cup his jaw and he tries to nudge Dean back to continue speaking, but Dean is having none of it. He takes advantage of Castiel’s distraction to slip his tongue in and lick into his alpha’s mouth, tasting concern and worry and the sweet, beautiful flavor of Castiel’s arousal. It’s like nectar to him and he presses closer with a low moan, straddling the alpha’s lap and rocking his hips to make his own desire impossible to ignore.

“Take me, Cas,” he repeats, breathing heavily into Castiel’s mouth, gripping his shoulders and nipping at his bottom lip. “You deserve this. You deserve us. We both do. And I need you right now.”

He leans down and pushes down Castiel’s loose PJ pants to free his cock, half-hard and growing thicker as Dean palms it. He laps at his alpha’s tongue again, making obscene crooning sounds which he knows get Castiel going, and strokes the thick length in his hand until it’s fully erect.

“Dean, you’re perfect.” Strong hands return to his hips as the scent of his slick fills the air, then he’s being lowered down onto Castiel’s cock, stretched and impaled slowly, and he tosses his head back with a moan. “You’re gorgeous. What did I ever do to deserve this? To deserve you?”

“Same thing I did to get you, Cas.”

Dean holds tight to Castiel’s shoulders and rocks his hips, drawing a moan from the alpha beneath him. The head of Castiel’s cock grazes his prostate as he lifts up, then again as he lowers himself and they both cling to each other a little tighter.

They move together in the dim room, the light from the moon playing across skin and hair, muscles moving rhythmically and beads of sweat glistening on brows and chests and spines. Dean gasps, Castiel moans, kisses are exchanged and pressed to necks and temples and mouths. The air grows thick with the scent of arousal, of slick and pre-release, and Castiel scents the air in an almost predatory way. His fingers ghost across Dean’s shoulder.

Then he pulls him close and bites, _hard._ Dean cries out as his orgasm overwhelms him with such intensity that his vision goes white and then dark, and finds himself lying in Castiel’s arms a while later drenched in sweat. Semen is sticking them both together, and he realizes he’s still tied to his alpha, feeling closer to the older man than ever before. He swallows a few times, trying to breathe, listening to Castiel’s heartbeat, then raises two fingers to his neck.

“Did you…”

His fingers meet inflamed skin, raw and sore, but not broken. And a lump forms in his throat and constricts his speech so much that when Castiel strokes his hair and whispers sweet words to him all he can do is nod or shake his head in response. He falls asleep in his alpha’s arms, clinging and emotional, feeling as though he’s lying in the arms of his mate with the final barrier between them thinning as each day passes. He wants to cry over not getting the bite he craves so badly, yet he also wants to shout for joy because he knows now. Castiel wants to mate him, and no matter what happens between them when they meet his father, he knows he belongs at Castiel’s side. They’ll make it work.

When he’s with Castiel, nothing else matters.   
  
•••   
  
“Let’s go home.”

It’s the next morning and they’ve already had breakfast at the apartment, washed the dishes side-by-side, and shared heated kisses and intimate embraces all morning. Dean woke in the position he fell asleep, on Castiel’s chest with Castiel’s cock filling him, soft now, and it only slipped free when he sat up. They showered together, Castiel cleaning him with a reverence that rendered him silent and pliant, washing his hair and kissing his neck and wiping slick and come from between his thighs. The gentle caresses to his slackened, sore hole held no sexual intent and somehow it was more intimate. He basked in Castiel’s fingers brushing over the most intimate part of him as he was kissed slowly, the scent of Castiel’s possessive desire all around him, as thick as the steam surrounding him.

“My perfect Dean,” he had whispered. “You give so much of yourself to me. How do I repay that?”

 _By mating me,_ he had wanted to say. But he had stayed silent, kissed back, and continued to be sweet and quiet all morning, earning him concerned gazes from the alpha. Dean is never sweet and quiet. He’s belligerent at times, irritable at others, speaks his mind and changes himself for anybody. So it’s no surprise when Castiel draws him close just as they’ve finished packing and stares deeply into his eyes.

Castiel kisses him with a low, burning intimacy, fingers stroking over the bite mark and Dean wishes for the hundredth time that his skin had broken beneath Castiel’s teeth. He finds himself wanting it so badly that tears spring to his closed eyes as he’s kissed and caressed and he chokes back a sound that could be a whine or could be a sob, but either way it’s enough to give Castiel pause.

“Dean?” A finger caresses his cheek, comes away wet, and Dean realises his emotions have leaked through without his consent. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” He scrubs at his own cheek in irritation, feeling two days worth of stubble scrape at his knuckles, knocking Castiel’s hand away in the process. Embarrassment colors his cheeks and he drops his gaze, but Castiel is having none of it.

“Dean, please.” Concern laces his voice and he crooks a finger beneath Dean’s jaw, tilting his head up until green eyes clash with blue. “Tell me what’s wrong. Have I done something to upset you?”

“No. God, no. The opposite.” He leans closer, fists both hands in Castiel’s sweater, breathes him in deeply and feels Castiel lower his face until his lips meet Dean’s neck, pressing gently in a chaste kiss. He turns his head until he feels Castiel’s lips find the mark he bit there. “I wanted this. I want this. All of it.”  
“You wanted me to bite you. Properly.”

“You know I did.”

“Yes, I did. I do. And believe me, Dean, I want to do it more than anything. You have no idea how hard I’ve had to fight for control not to claim you _every single time_ I knot you. It isn’t that I don’t want to, omega, believe me, it’s only because biting you now isn’t the appropriate way to do it.” Castiel’s voice has gotten lower, now a husky whisper, and Dean shivers at the ghosting of breath on his neck. “Do you want it that badly, Dean? You want my bite so badly it's making you cry?”

“Shut up,” he gasps, mouth finding Castiel’s until their kiss is hot and deep, and Dean finds himself pressing the alpha up against the door, their bags forgotten on the floor. “I hate that I’m so needy for you. I hate that I love you so damn much.”

The words slip out without his consent and he freezes in shock, as does Castiel beneath his hands. Slowly, he finds himself pushed backwards a step and held tightly in the alpha’s grip.

“You love me?” Castiel’s voice is carefully even.

“Uh.” Dean blinks, appalled at himself. “That isn't how that was supposed to come out.”

“You love me.” Castiel repeats, this time sounding more sure of himself. “You love me.”

“You doubted that?” Dean struggles against his hold a little then falls limp. “Dammit, Cas. What the hell have you done to me? I’m not this sappy, lovey-dovey guy.”

“Yes, you are.” A slow smile spreads across Castiel’s face until he’s laughing, and Dean glares at him in response. “You are a sappy, lovey-dovey guy. You’re _my_ sappy -” He kisses Dean’s jaw. “- Lovey-dovey -” Kisses his cheek. “- Mate-to-be.” Dean’s eyes widen then fall closed as his mouth is captured. “And I love you too.”

“Y-yeah?” He blinks rapidly, unable to stop himself from grinning. “You do?”

“Of course I do. Like you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t. Until this weekend.” They trade smiles and Dean’s wrists are released and he wraps his hands around Castiel’s waist. “Shit, my dad is gonna be so pissed. Mate-to-be? That’s some possessive shit there, Cas.”

“It is. And I mean every word.” Castiel kisses his forehead. “I’m not afraid of the conversation with your father tonight. Which we should leave for, now, if we want to make it on time.”

“Do we have to?” It comes out as a whine and Castiel laughs, picking up both their bags then grabbing Dean’s arm.

“Yes. Come on. Let’s get this over with.” He wraps Dean under one arm, kisses his temple. “Then it’s just us. No obstacles. No hiding.”

“Except from the school…”

“You just let me worry about them. Now, go put these in the car while I check us out.”

Dean watches Castiel walk away to return the keys to the owner, and allows a smile to touch his lips. He’s become less worried about the conversation with his father over the last few days. Castiel is so sure of himself, of them, that it seems like nothing can possibly get in their way.

He dozes on and off during the journey home, squinting through the rain lashing the windshield. It's unpleasantly warm in the car and he cracks the window, enjoying the sprinkle of droplets as they shower his face and neck. He turns his head sleepily and surveys Castiel, who is wearing a little frown as he drives.

“Are you nervous about meeting my dad?”

“No.” Castiel inclines his head but his eyes don't leave the road. “Parents tend to like me.”

“This ain't parents’ night at school, Cas!” Dean scoffs, rolling his eyes and smothering a laugh. “This is, ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr. Winchester, I'm the alpha screwing your teenage son.’ How do parents normally feel about that?”

“Not favorably.” A smirk twitches at Castiel’s lips as Dean stiffens and sits up in horror at the implication of his response. “I would imagine. I can't say it's a regular occurrence. For me, at least.”

“I fucking hope not,” Dean growls, his omega fury glaring at the insinuation that anyone else could please his alpha other than him. “You know, Cas, I gotta say, your sense of humor…”

But whatever Dean wanted to say about Castiel’s sense of humor, he never got to form the words. Or if he did, they became swallowed up in a cry of horror.

A truck rounds the corner much too fast, skidding on the wet ground, and Castiel slams on the brakes and yanks hard at the steering wheel. Dean white-knuckles the edge of his seat, closing his eyes. Tires screech on concrete, there's the jarring sound of metal colliding with metal, the explosive shattering of sheets of glass, and Dean’s head collides with the passenger side window _hard_.

Then, nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it wouldn't be a coffeeandcas story if nobody ended up in the hospital at _some_ point, right...?


	11. Chapter 11

The story spreads through the hospital like wildfire: the injured alpha who walked five miles to the hospital in the lashing rain with his unconscious omega in his arms, only collapsing from pain and exhaustion when he knew his mate was in safe hands. How handsome he is, they said of him. How brave. How  _ romantic.  _ Castiel had felt none of those things: all he felt was a cold, suffocating terror. 

“Please, save him,” he had begged hoarsely as Dean was lifted from his grasp and laid gently on a hospital gurney and taken from him. “He’s my mate, please don’t let him die.”

Castiel had been drenched in rainwater and sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead and clothes soaked through, already in the grips of a fever. He had been a shocking sight, by all accounts, blood slicking one side of his face from a slash to his temple and his blue eyes sparkling with fear and exertion. At the first approach of an alpha nurse, a deep snarl had left his lips as he cradled Dean’s unconscious form closer, but he had recognised his own weakness and allowed her to look at him and call for assistance. His last memory was of Dean, lying bloody and unmoving on starched white sheets, a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone and his hair matted with blood. Then nothing until he woke up in a private room with the scent of disinfectant and pheromone neutralisers in his nostrils and his head pounding as though he’d spent the entire night in a bar.

Now, he’s lying on his side in bed, an IV line with antibiotics disappearing into the crook of his elbow, ready to tear the head off of the next person who tells him he can’t see Dean. “You’re not his alpha”, one pale-faced doctor had told him, making a swift retreat from the room when Castiel’s growl had filled the air. Archaic customs be damned, he loves Dean with everything he has and he needs to know if the omega is alright. 

Dean hadn’t regained consciousness in the car and both their cell phones had been damaged beyond use. The asshole who sideswiped them and sent them into a ditch had driven off without looking back and with his panic slowly building, Castiel had been left with no choice but to attempt to get himself and Dean to the closest hospital. He barely remembers the walk, only Dean’s gaunt, ashen face against his shoulder and the bitter tang of their blood mixing together making him want to vomit.

He turns over, grimacing at the tug of the IV in his arm, scowling as the door opens and a pretty, auburn-haired beta walks in with a clipboard and a small smile.

“Castiel Novak? How are you feeling?” Her name tag reads ‘Anna’, the surname obscured by a lock of hair, and Castiel glares at her. 

“I want to see my mate,” he growls, sitting up so quickly his head spins. “I need to see how he is.”

“It says in my notes that Dean Winchester isn’t your mate.” She glances at her clipboard with a frown. “That there are no mating bites to confirm it.”

“He is!” Castiel all but shouts, distress clouding his vision and spiking in his scent. The beta flinches at his tone, her nostrils flaring. “We’re scent bonded! We’re in love!” It should feel embarrassing, admitting that to the doctor, but he can’t find it in him to care. He’s exhausted, in pain, and his emotions are raw from being torn apart from Dean in such a horrific way. “What does it matter if we haven’t blood bonded?”

“Castiel, you must know the law. Dean isn’t officially your mate until his father has approved you as his alpha and until you’ve exchanged bites. I’m afraid I can’t let you see him unless he asks for you. You’re not family.”

“But he’s awake, isn’t he?” Castiel’s blood runs cold at that. He’s been in this room for hours. “Please, tell me he’s awake.”

“He is,” Anna hastens to soothe him. “But very drowsy and confused. He needs to rest.” 

“He needs his alpha. You know that, you know that being near me will soothe him.” Castiel fists the sheet in his hands, fury and distress building and sharpening in the air. “Let me see him.  _ Please _ !”

But she doesn't listen. None of them listen, no matter how many times he asks to see Dean. No matter how desperately he begs or how viciously he bares his teeth. The stink of his own sorrow is sour to even his own nose so he can’t imagine how the nurses must feel.

So he does the only thing he can do: he takes matters into his own hands.

He pads along the corridor, checking every room and darting out of sight whenever a curious patient meets his eyes. He knows his scent must be rich and sharp, his distress easily detectable, but he doesn’t care. He needs to find Dean, needs to be by his side. Damn anyone to Hell who gets in his way. Nurses glance at him warily, but the stink of angry, lost alpha is enough to keep them at bay, although he suspects someone has likely called for his doctor. He just has to find Dean before they come and frogmarch him back to his room or, worse, call security. That would make a real scene, brutish alpha versus an alpha separated from his omega. He doesn’t really want to think about what his instincts could do in that situation. He rubs his arm where he wrenched the IV line out, barely feeling the sting, and continues his search.

Then, at the end of the corridor, something in the air calls to him. A beautiful scent of rich, sweet honey entwined with the oak of whiskey, of tea and old books, of engine grease and green-eyed beauty.  _ Dean. _ He pushes open the door to the end room and it hit face-on with emotion as he sees his omega lying in bed, sheets pulled up to his chest and long lashes lying on pale cheeks, unmoving.

_Asleep or dead?_ Flashes through Castiel’s fevered mind but he knows Dean isn’t gone from this world. Their scent bond is strong and the feeling of devastation that would rip through him if his omega died has thankfully never reared its head.

He approaches Dean slowly, carefully, trying not to wake him up, but the omega stirs, sensing his alpha nearby. A hand reaches out to him and Dean’s head inclines towards him, but his eyes are too heavy to open properly.

“Cas?” he murmurs, and Castiel clasps his hand in both of his, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed as relief hits him so hard he feels faint. 

“Dean,” Castiel breathes as he kisses his bruised fingers. “My Dean. Thank God, I was so worried.”

“We in the hospital?” Dean slurs and Castiel nods.

“Yes. I brought you here. You hit your head very hard on the window and you wouldn’t wake up.” Emotion clouds his vision in a sudden haze and he chokes a little on his words. “I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never been so afraid in my life, Dean. I thought you were going to be taken from me. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Just a bump on the head, Cas.” Dean’s pupils are large and fixed as he finally pries them open, a side-effect of the painkillers he’s on, but he attempts a shaky smile. “‘M fine. Are you?” He tugs his hand free and reaches up to brush Castiel’s hair out of his face. A plastic hospital bracelet encircles his wrist. “Look like shit.”

“You don’t look so hot yourself right now,” Castiel then laughs ruefully. “Who am I kidding? I always think you’re gorgeous.”

“You're a bad liar,” Dean laughs breathily then clutches a hand to his side. “Ouch. Damn. Bruised ribs hurt.”

“Tell me about it.” Castiel’s gaze travels down Dean’s body, taking in the stitches at his forehead and the hastily cleaned up blood, the bruise on his cheekbone and the split lip, the hand grasping his side. Guilt gnaws at him like a wild animal, entrapped in his chest, and he drops his eyes, downcast and ashamed. “I'm so sorry, Dean. It was my job to protect you and I failed. If -” he has to take a deep breath before his next words. “If you don't want me as your alpha anymore I'll understand. You need someone who can look out for you, someone who will never put you in danger. I did exactly that today. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Cas. No. No way, don't even think that.” Dean manages to haul himself into a sitting position and, worried, Castiel plumps up his pillows so that he can relax back against them. His own sad scent permeates the room and he knows Dean can smell it. “I don't remember what happened, hell I don't even remember getting here, but I know this wasn't your fault. Accidents happen, Cas. You're not to blame.”

“Car accidents don't just happen accidentally, Dean!” Castiel realises what he's said and rolls his eyes at himself, trying to keep calm. If Dean does reject him as his alpha - although the chances seem slim to none right now - he doesn't know how he’ll ever recover. “Someone is always at fault. I should have looked after you. Protected you. I'm a terrible alpha.”

“I can't even listen to this. I won't. You're the best alpha I've ever met, Castiel,” Dean says emphatically, sorrow and desperation lacing his words. “You're  _ my _ alpha. I love you. I  _ need _ you. I don't want anyone else but you, don't ever think that.”

“You're too good to me, Dean. Too good  _ for _ me.” Castiel clasps Dean’s hand again, brushes his hair back and leans down to steal a kiss. “Your father must be on his way. Do you want me to leave before he arrives? Should we consider what to say to him?”

“I think that's exactly what you should damn well do,” comes a snarl from the doorway. Dean and Castiel both stiffen in horror and break apart, both glancing in the direction of the door, knowing who would be standing there without needing to look. The air becomes thick with anger and concern - mainly anger - and John Winchester stands glaring at them in horrified rage. “Get the hell away from my son.”

“Dad. Dad, no,” Dean tries to force himself up onto an elbow and Castiel gently presses his shoulder to keep him down. “This isn't what you think.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows, stung, pain immediately igniting in his chest. This isn't how he wanted Dean’s father to discover them, but he never thought Dean would deny him completely…

“Well,” Dean falters, looking down at his own fingernails. “Actually, it's exactly what you think. I just didn't want you to find out this way.”

Relief almost sends Castiel to his knees and he swallows painfully hard, feeling wretched at doubting his omega. Of course Dean would never do that, what the hell was he thinking? The fever must have him in a tighter grip than he initially realised, pain and exhaustion clouding his judgement. He wants to kiss Dean, to pet his hair and cradle him close, but that wouldn’t go down too well right now. 

“He looks old enough to be your goddamn father. You lied to me, Dean. You told me it was a boy from your school. Who the hell is this, this poor excuse for an alpha? And where did you meet him?”

John advances into the room and Castiel moves back from Dean respectfully, but still remains within touching distance. Fear is coming off Dean in waves, and Castiel can't bring himself to move too far away, even with a potentially challenging alpha in the room. His omega needs him. 

“He's my English teacher.” Dean’s cheeks flush but he keeps his chin up, his eyes flashing with near defiance. “So technically, I did meet him at school.” He flinches as John makes an aborted movement towards him, Castiel’s low growl of warning filling the air. “And I never lied to you. You assumed. I just didn't correct you.”

“A lie by omission is still a lie, Dean.” Shocking both John and Dean, it's Castiel who speaks. He then straightens his shoulders and addresses the other alpha. “Mr Winchester. I'm sorry you had to find out this way. It isn't what either of us wanted. But my feelings for your son are very real, and I want to explore the opportunity to be his mate. If he’ll have me.” He inclines his head just a little. “And if you'll allow it."

Dean makes a sharp, indignant sound - the sight of the two alphas discussing whether or not he should be allowed to be his mate is setting off every possible warning signal within him. He never wanted to be this type of omega,  _ never _ . Castiel knows that! But then as a comforting hand descends onto his shoulder he realises what Castiel is doing. Deferring to his father out of respect for John, not out of disrespect for Dean. He can only hope Castiel’s soft, well-mannered approach will work.  

There’s a long, long moment of silence where the air crackles with tension. Castiel’s blue eyes are cold, dark with the need to protect Dean, and his hand on the omega’s shoulder is possessive yet unchallenging. He won’t challenge John, but he won’t back down either. Dean watches as his father’s gaze moves from his own bruised face to Castiel’s hand, Castiel’s stony gaze, then back to Dean once more. Dean’s chest hurts from holding his breath. Very slowly, he reaches up and covers Castiel’s hands with his own, feeling the alpha’s bruised and scraped knuckles beneath his palm and wanting nothing more than to turn and embrace him, kiss his pain away and curl up together until it all stops hurting. The need is almost painful in its intensity and he feels his eyes burn, a lump gathering in his throat. He doesn’t dare do anything more than take Castiel’s hand though, watching his father for any sign of reaction.

“Dad. Please. This, me and Castiel. It’s real. I love him.”

“And I love Dean,” Castiel adds quietly. “I love him very much, John. I want to be with him. You have my word I’ll take care of him.”

“And if I say no?” John’s expression is unreadable, his eyes flinty and his jaw set. This is a test, Dean can tell. And Castiel’s response will likely dictate whether John gives them his blessing or not. And if he doesn’t, Dean doesn’t know what will happen. 

Thankfully, Castiel is considering his answer very carefully. His fingers tighten gently on Dean’s shoulder, thumb rubbing in circles, and John must see this. Must see an alpha trying to comfort his omega. He says nothing though, just waits.

“I love Dean,” Castiel repeats slowly. “Dean is a wonderful young man who has been raised very well. He’s a credit to you.”

“Don’t butter me up, boy,” John growls. “That’s a dirty trick.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Castiel’s tone is mild. John glowers but says nothing in response. “Dean has been raised to value the old rules of our designations, to respect his alphas and to take a mate. But he's so much more than just someone’s to possess, someone’s to own. He's strong, in mind and body, and he's intelligent. He’s kind, he’s loving, and the way he speaks of you and Sam is wonderful. If you deny me to Dean, it will be him who gets hurt the most. He wants to be free to make his own choices, to be with the person he loves the most.” He squeezes Dean’s shoulder warmly. “And I'm privileged to be that person. I'll take care of him. Give him everything he wants. And he will always have the freedom to be his own person, to challenge me and keep me in line as much as I him. I don't want to own him. I want to love him. Make him happy. And I very much hope that you'll support that.”

There's a deathly silence in the room after Castiel’s speech. Dean is blinking furiously, pink-cheeked and breathless, apparently completely unable to articulate anything at all to add to Castiel’s words. Castiel suspects nobody has ever spoken so candidly - or so kindly - of the omega in his entire life. John is watching them, eyes dark and a flicker of anger still slight within them, and it's painfully obvious that this could go either way. 

John takes another step into the room towards the bed, then another, coming around the foot of it to face Castiel and Dean makes a low, nervous noise in the back of his throat. Both alphas are stiff-backed and square-shouldered, neither showing any sign of backing down. Then John raises a hand - Castiel breathes out hard through his nose, bracing for a blow - and extends it between them. There's a strange, almost far away look to John’s eyes now as he studies Castiel and as they shake hands the tension in the room seems to slowly ebb away. 

“Your mother would have liked him, Dean,” John says, voice gruff yet eyes softening as he looks at his son. And Castiel feels like he could cry.    
  
•••   
  
“I didn't see a mating bite,” John says a while later. He's sitting out in the hallway with Castiel, both of them sipping coffee as the sound of Sam’s laughter floats from Dean’s hospital room. Castiel nods gravely. 

“That's because there isn't one. We wanted to wait. I wanted to meet you first, to do this properly. And I didn't want him to rush into anything.”

“And what about you, Castiel?” John sips from his styrofoam cup, eyeing Castiel over the rim. “Are you rushing into this?”

“No. Never. What Dean and I have, this bond? It's more profound than I could ever have hoped for, with any omega. It's for life. I want nothing more than what he wants to give me, and I'll never take anything that he doesn't give freely. I meant what I said. I love him. And that's all.”

“That's all,” John repeats, almost to himself. “That's what I said about Mary, his mom. I knew from the day I met her that she was the one. Nothin’ and nobody was ever gonna change that.”

“I'm sorry you lost her.” Castiel says softly, placing a hand on John arm. John looks at it for a moment then nods, eyes on the cup in his hands. 

“Me too. But she would be glad Dean found you.” They share a smile as they hear Dean call Sam a crude name and they laugh together at some inside joke. “And so am I.”


	12. Chapter 12

Dean is released from the hospital a day later, and Castiel respectfully gives the Winchesters some distance, fighting every instinct he has to go and wrap Dean in his arms and protect him from the world. Separation anxiety hits him harder than he expects, and his innermost self wants to curl up in a corner and whine until Dean hears and comes running. He actually spends their first night apart doing exactly that: lying on his couch covered with a blanket, breathing hard through his emotion and exchanging mournful text messages with Dean as they both lament the space between them until Dean goes quiet and Castiel realises that midnight has come and gone.

The next day at school, Jimmy hauls him into an empty classroom and berates him angrily for not calling him about the accident until he was discharged from the hospital and safely back home. He had thought that Jimmy had got all his ire out of his system over the phone the night before, but apparently not. Guiltily, he admits to himself he can understand why. But he had been so swept up in alpha guilt and comforting his mate that calling his brother simply hadn’t crossed his mind. 

“What the hell, Castiel? Imagine if I had done that! You’d go crazy!”

“You’re my brother, Jimmy. It’s my job to look after you, you’re a-”

“If you say ‘beta’ I swear I will throttle you, Cas.” Jimmy looks murderous. “Maybe that omega you were screwing hit the nail on the head with his flouting of secondary gender roles. Beta or not, I’m your twin and you should have called me. Where were you, anyway?”

“Out,” Castiel grunts noncommittally. But he’s well aware of his inability to hide anything from Jimmy, and his twin crosses his arms and fixes him with a withering look.

“Oh, out. How stupid of me not to realise you were out.” Jimmy’s blue eyes flash with exasperation. “I think I can guess who you were with at least, even if I don’t know where you were. How is your little omega? Keeping you busy, I guess.”

The growl that tears itself from Castiel’s lips quells Jimmy into silence and submission, and he takes a reactive step back, palms raised in supplication. 

“Don’t use that patronising tone with me. Dean was hurt, Jimmy. Hurt badly enough that he stayed in the hospital longer than I did. He shouldn’t have had to suffer through that.” Castiel’s voice cracks and he gazes at his feet, trying to regulate his breathing. “He should have been safe with me.”

“Cas, it was a car wreck.” Jimmy approaches his brother and puts a tentative hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was.” Castiel sags against the desk, head dropping into his hands, wrung out with sudden exhaustion. Out in the corridor the bell sounds, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I should have been more careful.”

“Does Dean blame you for this?” 

“No. Not at all.”

“Then stop torturing yourself. He’s okay, right?” At Castiel’s jerky nod, Jimmy smiles. “Well then. That’s all that matters. Although I feel obligated as the smarter, more sensible Novak twin to lecture you on the dangers of continuing to see this omega. He’s a teenager, Castiel. You could-”

“We’re bonded.” Castiel says in a rush, passion heating his words. “Scent bonded. More than that, almost. I want him as my mate. I’m in love with him, Jimmy, and he loves me too. This is real, and I don’t care about any consequences. He’s worth it to me.”

Jimmy appraises him for a long while then hugs Castiel to him with an arm slung across his shoulders. 

“I know. You already smell like him.” 

“Then why…?”

“Why did I give you a hard time just now?” Jimmy shrugs, an impish sparkle in his blue eyes. “I’m your twin. Comes with the job.”   
  
•••   
  
**Cas, I miss you so much I can barely breathe. Come over.**

_ No, Dean. It isn’t appropriate. It would be disrespectful to your father.  _

**Screw him! He’s cool with all this. Come on, Cas. This is killing me.**

_ Dean. Don’t. Being apart from you is torture enough, please don’t do this to me.  _

**Sorry. Just miss you is all.**

_ And I miss you, my sweet omega. My heart. Get your rest. I’ll see you very soon. _

**Whatcha doing?**

_ Having dinner with Jimmy. I've told him all about you. He thinks I'm obsessed.  _

**Are you?**

_ I'm in love. Isn't it the same thing? _

**Same, Cas. Same.** **  
**  
•••   
  
He's grading some papers one evening, cringing his way through some truly terrible grammatical errors, when there's a knock at his front door. It's a heavy knock, deliberate, and Castiel frowns while glancing at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. It's after nine at night, who would be calling on him at this hour? Could it be Dean? His heart leaps at the idea and he’s on his feet and crossing to the hallway in an instant.

When he opens the door, his lips part in a mixture of disappointment and shock. John Winchester stands on his doorstep, looking unamused with his hands shoved into the pockets of a leather jacket that he has definitely seen on Dean before. He also looks a little like he’s going to bolt, and there are discomfited alpha pheromones coming off him so strongly that Castiel wrinkles his nose in distaste. He keeps one hand on the door, feet planted firmly, attempting a no-nonsense attitude when all  he really wants to do is slink back into his living room away from a potentially difficult situation with Dean’s father. 

“Castiel,” John begins then falters and glowers at Castiel before averting his eyes. There’s a tense pause between them then Castiel steps back, gesturing into the warmth of his hallway.   
“Would you like to come in?”

John peers at him suspiciously, as though expecting some form of prank, then accepts the invitation and steps into Castiel’s house, pausing in the doorway to the kitchen. He’s a large man with a demanding presence and although Castiel is far from small himself, he does feel a little on edge. If it comes down to it, he’s sure John could take him in a fight. But it shouldn’t come down to it, he berates himself as he crosses to the refrigerator. Things were fine at the hospital, John seemed to accept him as a part of Dean’s life. Didn’t he?

“Would you like a beer?” He offers a perspiring bottle to John, who takes it after a moment’s hesitation. 

“Thanks.”

Castiel sips his own, and silence stretches between them in the kitchen so loud that it’s almost deafening. Castiel fiddles with the label on his bottle, leans against the counter, crosses and uncrosses his ankles, and waits for John to speak. The older alpha is just watching him with quiet deliberation, something going on behind his dark gaze that Castiel can’t quite place. 

“John, not to be rude but I get the feeling this isn’t a social call,” he hedges eventually, when the silence becomes too much and threatens to burst his eardrums. His skin is prickling with the intensity in which he’s being watched. “Is there something I can help you with?” Then, in a sudden panic, “Is it Dean? Is he okay?”

“Boy’s fine,” John grunts. “Wanted to talk to you. To tell you something.”

“Oh.” Castiel’s nerves settle somewhat. If Dean is alright then whatever else John has to say can't be so bad. “I see. Should we sit down?”

John shrugs, doesn't move. “Listen, Castiel. I know we talked at the hospital. But seeing you two together was a shock, you gotta know that.”

Castiel nods gravely, head bowed a little in deference to the older alpha. “I do. Absolutely. And it wasn't how we wanted you to find out. Dean had invited me for dinner the night of the crash.”   
“Yeah, about that. How had you planned on telling me that you were screwing my son?” John’s voice has lowered to a growl, but he doesn’t smell angry. His scent is frustrated, concerned, irate perhaps but not angry. Castiel senses that John just wants to vent at him, that there were things left unsaid at the hospital that John clearly wants to get off his chest and now seems, apparently, to be the right time.

“We, uhm, we hadn’t decided. We were going to talk about it on the drive home…”

“Just planned on turning up on my doorstep? Introducing yourself as his new alpha and sweeping me aside like old news?” A spike of sadness laces John’s scent and Castiel frowns. “Those boys are my world. I might not be the best father, but I love those kids and if anyone tried to hurt them…” John wipes a hand over his face, downs half his beer in one swallow. “Don’t ever hurt him, Castiel. Or I’ll find you. I swear it.”

“I won’t.” Castiel gets it now. Dean finding an alpha of his own means something to John. It means he isn’t needed in his son’s life any more, not as his protector or the man he would naturally default to for any help or advice. It means someone else has taken his place, and he’s struggling to deal with it. Taking a chance, Castiel reaches for John, places a hand on his arm, and they both stare at it before looking up at each other.

“I’ll never hurt Dean. Ever.” Castiel puts as much meaning into the words as he can, holding John’s gaze levelly. “I’d rather tear out my own heart than harm him, John. I want you to know that.”

John watches him for a moment longer in quiet contemplation, then his shoulders relax and the groove between his brows smoothes out a little. He appears satisfied with Castiel’s answer. Then, perhaps in an attempt to lighten the mood or to regain his footing in the conversation, he rolls his eyes.

“Alright, enough already. No need to go overboard. I’ll tell my son you’re sweet on him.”

“Please do,” Castiel allows himself to smile and the atmosphere in the kitchen becomes immediately warmer. “How is Dean?”

“Fine. Better. Pining for you, I think.” John looks uncomfortable at his own words. “Back to school on Monday.”

Pining. Well, Castiel can definitely relate to that. He’s been aching to be close to Dean ever since he left the hospital, and the thought of his omega suffering in any way from not being in his vicinity is like a hot knife to the heart. 

“Please wait here just a moment.” He spins on his heel and heads for his bedroom, coming back a minute later with a soft caramel-colored sweater folded in his arms. “Please give this to Dean. It may help with any upset caused by my absence.”

“Yeah. Okay. Fine.” John takes it, clearly embarrassed by the discussion and rocks back onto his heels. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks for the beer.”

“Anytime.” He isn’t sure he means that. While he has no objection to John, he would rather his omega’s father didn’t drop by at every opportune moment. And from the pause then slow nod, John Winchester shares his feelings on the matter.

“Yeah. Sure. G’night, Castiel.” John starts down the steps then pauses, turns. “Dinner. Tomorrow night. Seven PM.”

“That… sounds great.” Castiel manages to cover his surprise pretty effectively. “I’ll be there.”

“Great.” 

Then he’s truly gone, out of the garden gate and climbing into the gleaming Impala, the car Castiel knows Dean loves so much. As the car roars to life and vanishes down the street with the tail lights glowing, Castiel leans against the doorframe and folds his arms. It feels finally as though all the pieces in his and Dean’s lives are starting to come together.   
  
•••   
  
Castiel dresses for dinner in a soft sweater and dark denim jeans, a crate of beer clutched under one arm for John and an apple and cherry pie he picked up from the bakery on his way over for Dean. He can’t deny he’s nervous, a small lump clogging his throat, but when Dean yanks open the door with a grin on his face and his freckles popping in the cheap light from the motel car park, Castiel can barely stop himself from letting out a low noise of excitement.

Dean looks, and smells, incredible. He has a healing cut on his forehead held together with two thin strips of tape, a scrape on his jaw, and sparkling eyes as he takes in the sight of his alpha. Castiel allows himself to reach in, to cup Dean’s elbow and place a quick, chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back and glancing nervously into the motel room. A little of Dean’s excited glow seems to fade and he throws a look back inside, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“It’s, uh, not much. Really. Not compared to your place.”

“Dean.” Castiel moved closer and kisses him again, this time slower and with more deliberation, the type of kiss intended to comfort. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Tonight will go just fine. Now let me in so I can see your dad and Sam.”

Sam is skittish and nervous, long bangs hanging in his eyes as he greets Castiel, almost vibrating with the typical energy of a teenager. John sits at the table already, watching, yet stands and shakes Castiel’s hand firmly when he approaches, and his eyes hold enough warmth that it sets him at ease.

“Here.” He hands the beers to John and the pie to Dean, watching his omega’s eyes light up at the sight of it. “I couldn’t come empty-handed. I think this flavor is your favourite, right Dean?”

“Is it ever,” Sam snorts. “We never hear the end of his pie obsession.”

“Have a seat, Castiel.” John gestures to the table, attempting to deflect Castiel’s attention while Dean thumps Sam hard on the arm. “It’s pizza, hope that’s alright.”

“Sounds great.” Castiel takes his seat and clinks his bottle with John. He can see Dean eyeing up one for himself and rolling his eyes when he’s presented with a can of Coke instead.

Conversation flows, albeit stiltedly, and Castiel asks Sam about his school work and John about his job. He politely keeps the focus off Dean for a while, letting his omega enjoy his dinner without feeling the eyes of the entire table on him. Until, that is, John decides to wade in.

“So, can I expect grandchildren at some point before I croak?” John folds a piece of pizza in half and crams it into his mouth. Castiel hides a smirk behind his own forkful - it's easy to see where Dean’s table manners come from. Across the table, Sam makes a muffled noise of amusement into his palm - clearly the thought of his older brother having kids is something he finds particularly hilarious. Dean has gone scarlet and it looks like he kicks Sam under the table. Castiel takes control of the situation to save the omega from any further embarrassment and clasps Dean’s hand across the table. 

“Whenever Dean is ready, we will discuss it. And it will happen when it happens, and only if Dean wants to. I want whatever he wants, and if children are in our future then that will be fantastic. If not,” he meets Dean’s nervous gaze and squeezes his hand in comfort. “Then spending our lives together will be simply enough.”

Something flickers behind Dean’s green eyes and he looks like he's about to speak, then drops his gaze back to his plate and doesn't pass comment. A short silence stretches between the four of them after Castiel’s impassioned declaration until John shorts, shattering the tension. 

“Well, you two make damn sure you're ready for kids before making that commitment.” John finishes his drink with an audible swallow. “Emotionally, financially, all that crap. Give them the best kinda life you can give.”

“When did you become such a responsible parent?” Dean gripes petulantly, and John Winchester reaches over and slaps him on the back of the head. It's not as hard as it would usually be, Castiel is sure, and he's certain that's down to his presence. He's not Dean’s blood-bonded mate yet, but he still has ties to the omega and would be within his rights to challenge anyone who brought wilful harm to Dean - relative or not. 

“When I realised how much you and Sammy mean to me,” John says quietly and the air immediately thickens around them all. Dean flushes and drops his gaze to his plate and Sam stares openly, lips parted in shock, at his father. Castiel gets the impression that open statements of affection just aren't a common occurrence in the lives of the Winchesters.

The rest of dinner goes comparatively well and by the time they’ve all polished off a slice of pie (Dean has two, which makes Castiel smile fondly) he’s relaxed and happy, and feeling as though he could carve out his space in the Winchester family. Sam is sweet and funny, John just as gruff and contemplative as he expected him to be, and Dean is a bundle of charming, endearing energy and Castiel just wants to bundle him up in his arms and kiss him senseless.

“Be back by dinner time tomorrow, Dean,” John says as his sons clear away the empty pizza boxes, beer bottles, Coke cans and plates. “I have stuff I need you to help me with, need you to wash and wax the Impala.”

“Tomorrow?” Dean frowns. “Why? Where am I going?”

Sam smothers another laugh behind his hand and turns away when Dean pins him with a furious glare. He's about to snap something at his little brother when a gentle hand comes down on his shoulder and sweet, whiskey-laced pheromones flood the air around him. Castiel embraces him from behind and kisses his neck. 

“I think your father is suggesting that I drive you home tomorrow after lunch, if that's agreeable with you. He thinks we deserve some quality time together after our traumatic experience.”

“But why would he…” Realisation dawns quickly and Dean’s cheeks flush with heat. “Oh.  _ Oh _ .”

“Yeah.  _ Oh _ .” 

Castiel’s smile could outshine the moon.    
  
•••   
  
Dean drags Castiel through his front door and they collapse together on the stairs, pulling at jackets and kicking off shoes, hair and eyelashes damp with rain drops. Dean is panting already, clutching at Castiel, and he wastes no time in dragging the older alpha up the stairs and into the bedroom. It's dark out and Dean reaches with trembling fingers to turn on the bedside lamp, his skin seeming to glow in the soft orange light. Castiel is forced to pause for a moment just to look at him, to take in how handsome he looks. He's awarded only a minute though before his arms are full of needy, passion-driven omega. 

Castiel presses kiss after kiss to his open mouth, combing his fingers through his hair, and smiling as Dean tugs at his clothes, over-eager and desperate.

“Dean, Dean. Shh, slow down. We don’t need to rush this.” He sits down on the bed, allows his omega to straddle him and kiss the breath from his lips. “We have the rest of our lives, Dean. This is only the beginning.”

“And I want to kick it all off with a bang.” Dean nips his bottom lip and pushes Castiel back onto the bed, attacking his neck with licks and sucks, hot kisses and gently bites. “Can I…”

“No.” Using his superior strength - which he knows will enrage his omega beautifully - Castiel flips them so that Dean is beneath him and kisses his protests away. “Soon. Not tonight. Tonight, my gorgeous Dean, is all about you.” He unfastens Dean’s belt, pulls it through the loops with a shuck and throws it aside. “And only you.”

He takes his time stripping Dean, kissing every exposed expanse of skin as he does so. Clothes begin to pile on the floor, his own joining them, until they lie naked together, erections nudging against each other as Dean gasps and clutches at him, wrapping one leg around Castiel’s thighs to pull him closer. 

“More, Cas. Take me, I’m so ready for you.”

And he is; the scent of his slick is thick and heady in the air, mingling with Castiel’s arousal and spurring him into nipping the soft flesh between Dean’s neck and shoulder - right where his mating bite will go. 

“How do you want me, Dean? How do you want me to take you?”

“From behind,” Dean gasps, and Castiel raises his eyebrows in surprise. He’d thought Dean would want to be face-to-face for this. “I wanna ride you. It always feels so deep when we do it like that.”   
Castiel knows the position Dean means, and a low moan tears from his lips as he pictures them. He’ll sit on the edge of the bed, Dean on his lap with his thighs draped on the outside of his alpha’s. Castiel will be buried deep, barely containing his groans of pleasure as Dean rocks in his lap, one hand covering Castiel’s where it clutches at his waist and the other thrown behind him, fisted in dark hair and throwing his head back, opening his throat for what he wants. It’s a beautiful image…

And that’s exactly how Castiel takes him. He spends a while between Dean’s legs first, eating him out while Dean thrashes on his back, thighs over Castiel’s shoulders and hands in his hair, groaning as Castiel laps his slick from his hole and fingers him deeply, working his prostate until he’s shaking. Then he pulls Dean into his lap, back to chest, and presses into him in one slow thrust, inch by inch, until Dean is panting, arching, sweat beading on his spine and dripping down into the crease of his ass right where their bodies join. The scent of his slick combined with Castiel’s precome floats up to embrace them both and Dean rocks his hips experimentally, whining at the increased pressure on his prostate.

“God.  _ Fuck _ . Cas, I love you. I love this. God!”

“How does it feel, my beautiful omega?” Castiel embraces him, both arms wrapped around his waist, thrusting up into the tight heat of Dean’s body and spreading his legs, forcing Dean’s thighs wide. The omega’s hard, hot cock arching up towards his stomach, wet at the tip, and Castiel cradles his balls, strokes the shaft with his thumb. 

“Good. So good. Incredible. Cas, I want… I want…”

“Now? You’re sure?”

“Yeah, Cas. I wanna be yours. Wanna be your mate.” Their orgasms are approaching fast and Castiel doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on. “Do it, please.  _ Please _ !”

“I love you, Dean,” Castiel whispers into the damp hair at the nape of his neck. Then he mouths down to the juncture of his shoulder and Dean takes a breath. As he exhales, Castiel bites down hard enough to break the skin and Dean comes with a helpless cry, pleasure igniting in every atom of his body, his vision sparkling then going white, then dark. When it clears, he realises Dean is relaxed and pliant in his arms - he’s passed out from the force of his climax. 

Castiel embraces him tightly, kissing his neck and lapping at his bite until Dean begins to stir and realises that they’re tied together. He groans, arching back, murmuring that his alpha’s cock feels huge inside him, and Castiel can’t help but agree: Dean’s rim is tugging deliciously at his knot and he wants the feeling to last forever. While Dean had been unconscious in his lap, Castiel had turned them both to lie on their sides and his warm hands roam lazily across Dean’s stomach and chest, mouth blissfully soothing over his bite time and time again. 

“I wanna see it,” he slurs and Castiel smiles into his skin. 

“You will. It’s beautiful. You look good with my mark on you.”

“I feel good.” Dean is floating on endorphins. He arches his hips, and Castiel both hears his groan and feels his body tense as he comes again; he grips Dean tight throughout it and nuzzles at the bite on his neck. “You feel good. I love you.”

“My omega,” Cas holds him so tightly as a rush of emotion hits him, almost as though he’s afraid to let Dean go, like Dean will slip through his arms and vanish if he does. “I love you. I love you so much. My mate.”

“My alpha,” Dean smiles into his pillow as sleep threatens to take them both. He wants Dean to stay awake, to wait until Castiel’s knot has gone down so that he can sit up and stagger to the bathroom, look at his new bite. But then again, he considers as he drifts under, the scent of his omega filling his nose and happiness in his heart, it will be a wonderful treat for them both to wake up to in the morning.   
  
•••   
  
He displays his mating bite with pride at school the following Monday, and Charlie’s shriek of excitement echoes down the corridor towards him before he's even laid eyes on her.

“Winchester! What the hell? Oh my  _ god _ , what the hell is  _ that _ ?” She punches him on the arm, wraps him in a bear hug, and tugs his t-shirt down to look at the bite. “Is that… did he… is it…”

She can barely speak she’s so over-enthused and Dean drags her into a nearby classroom, unable to wipe the grin from his face.

“Yeah. It is. It’s from him. We, uh, we’re mated.”

“Wait. Let me get this straight.” Charlie’s red curls bounce almost as much as she does. She’s had her hair cut over the weekend; it’s now shoulder-length and looks great, so Dean tells her so. “Winchester! Stop trying to deflect! Did our super-sexy English Lit teacher do that to you?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Dean knows he’s blushing and grinning like a new bride but he can’t help it. He touches his fingers to the scabbed-over bite, feeling the indent of Cas’ teeth and remembering the delicious pain as his skin broke, and Charlie punches him on the arm again. 

“That’s so awesome! It is awesome, right? You’re happy?” She shakes herself, laughing. “Of course you’re happy, look at you! You can’t stop grinning! Did you bite him? I saw him this morning and I swear he didn’t have one.”

“No. He won’t let me, not until graduation. He doesn’t want anything to impact my future,” Dean says as he rolls his eyes. “He said if we both turned up with matching bites it would be obvious that we were mated. But if I’m the only one with a mark and we both wear scent blockers, nothing can be proven unless we admit to it. I totally would, but he won’t. Why did I ever mate someone so-”

“Adorable?” Charlie finishes for him. “He’s looking out for you, Dean, for both of you! That is the  _ sweetest _ thing!”

“Yeah, well. I’ll send you a wedding invitation.”

“Screw you.” The bell rings and Charlie loops her arm through Dean’s as they head back into the corridor. “I’m going to be the Best Woman. You don’t have much of a choice there. In fact, I just had the coolest idea for your bachelor party…!”

Dean walks to Geometry with her, listening to her prattle on about Moondor and Comic-Con and San Diego and more costumes than Dean can keep track of, and from the other end of the corridor he catches sight of Castiel, holding a pile of books and talking animatedly to his twin. Their eyes meet through the throng of other students and his alpha smiles warmly at him. Dean’s heart leaps with love, and he grins back. He remembers what Castiel said the night before: this is the beginning of the rest of their lives.

And he simply can’t wait for them to spend it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all for now, folks! This has been so much fun to write and even though I'm not the strongest A/B/O writer I've really enjoyed the challenge. You can expect timestamps in the future, for sure. You can follow the series if you want to keep track of new updates!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stayed with me throughout the journey of writing this, and special thanks to [Tricia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16) for her unending help, advice, and for listening to me whine when these boys weren't doing what I wanted them to. Love ya ❤️

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/coffeeandcas) if you want to come and talk to me. Please do, I love hearing from you all.


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